


Game, Set, Match.

by tofumofo



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Kinda, M/M, Tennis AU, adam flirting, had this idea for a while now, ronan being flustered, the score is love, the tennis fic you've all been waiting for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:13:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21939505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tofumofo/pseuds/tofumofo
Summary: Joining a private school tennis team was somewhere between damnation and divine intervention.If you were to ask Adam, he would say it’s punishment for not being able to bribe his way into college. There was a necessity to become the best candidate possible.If you were to ask Ronan, he would say that Adam Parrish joining the tennis team seemed like a gift from God for not dropping out this year. Let the games begin.Tennis Team AU
Relationships: Richard Gansey III/Blue Sargent, Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 113
Kudos: 403





	1. Desperate Times

**Author's Note:**

> i kind of just threw this together but I needed to provide the tennis fic I have been wanting for so long, so merry xmas ya'll

Adam sits outside the counselor’s office for the seventh time in four years. You see, she didn’t actually do much counseling, just call the boys in every semester to make sure they were taking the right steps to get them into the Ivy of their dreams. For Adam, it actually was a dream, a wild wish that he could see in front of him but never seemed to be able to reach out and grab. For Aglionby boys, this dream was just a bribery away. Need to finance a new History building? Call on your local rich white boy. It was bullshit. 

Sarah pops her head around the side of the door and cheerfully says, “Adam, I’m ready for you.” 

Once he follows her in, Adam can’t help but notice her office was not only more spacious but more furnished than his apartment above St. Agnes. That didn’t matter, it was better than where he came from. He stares down a germ-x bottle next to a stack of personalized post-its while Sarah’s acrylics clack on the keyboard. 

Turning the monitor toward him, she says, “Alright, let’s take a look here.” On the screen is information from the past four years, every class he’s taken, followed by a neat line of all A’s. “Excellent GPA here, per usual. Your activities… debate, programming, Latin club. Looks great. Where are you applying?”

“Um. Several places. The same ones as before.” 

“They must have erased. Care to remind me?” 

He doesn’t want to say them again, every time he lists one he can see every future rejection letter in the mail. Not for a lack of hard work, of course, he was dealt a bad hand. “Harvard. Brown. Princeton. The same as everyone else,” he adds a laugh as if it was a joke and Sarah stops typing to give him a pity smile back. It pretty much is a joke, growing up in a trailer and then going to Harvard. Yeah right. The admissions office would be able to smell the fake from a mile away. 

“Well. Okay. Would you consider something more local?”

“No.” Out of the question. College was his chance to get out of this town once and for all. He would never come back after leaving and that was a fact. 

“I believe everyone can achieve what they want, but I also know it is not wise to put all your eggs in one basket, Adam.”

“That’s at least three baskets,” he replies.

“Your report card shows you have been working very hard academically, but colleges are looking for a well-rounded student. In academic and non-academic areas.” 

This was ridiculous. Harvard. Not caring about academics. Sure, the other boys have their yearly trips around the globe to bestow the gift of an Instagram picture to children in third world countries, but they also have a 2.4 GPA. “I don’t understand. I have researched what activities are most impressive for a resume, this is what I am supposed to have.” She smiles politely at him while Adam raises his voice. He doesn’t like when he sounds like this—desperate.

“I understand this can be frustrating, but the more chances you have to make yourself a unique candidate the better. As I said, you are doing phenomenal academically, I would suggest trying out for a sport.” She adds a bullet to his profile and types, ‘Sport?’.

“A sport.”

“Yes.” She clicks her pen while waiting for his response. “Most students here already play one. Have you… do you have an interest in one? I believe baseball tryouts are soon.”

“I don’t have time for a sport.” Between his three jobs and school, there would be little left to him after a nightly practice. Let alone purchasing gear.

“Are you organized?”

He can't believe he's about to get lectured on time management by someone who gets an hour lunch break every day.

“It doesn’t matter how organized I am. There is only so much time in a day and between my jobs and homework I am already up until—“

Sarah puts her hand out to stop him. “A sport manager, Adam. If I look really quick… it appears tennis still needs one. You would help ready equipment and the court, change the score-board, take notes.”

He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it.

“You could probably do your homework during practice.”

“Fine. I’ll do it.” Just like that, his to-do list got one thing longer.

“Great! I’ll email Coach Bishop and you guys can set up a time to meet. I think this will be a great opportunity for you Adam.” Sarah smiles at him again, but Adam can’t take it as genuine as he leaves her office wondering what he just got himself into.

______ 

As it turns out, people aren’t exactly breaking down gates to become the tennis team manager, so Adam easily lands the spot. He waits outside the locker room before the first practice hearing the slam of metal lockers open and shut. Once he sees Coach Bishop duck out of the door, he scampers behind him, struggling to walk with the three water bottle carriers without smacking himself in the legs. Nothing is quite as refreshing as hose water, right? He feels supremely stupid except for the fact he now has a key on a lanyard to get into the equipment closet. It makes him feel important, and this new-found ounce of confidence in his walk makes the water bottles feel slightly lighter.

After learning how to unroll and set up the nets, he heads to the bleachers to sit and do paper-work for the team. Old stuff the Coach forgot to do before this season. The sun glares off the metal and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the bottom of Adam’s hairline. 

Then, he sees them. 

Boy after boy walk out the door, bags slung over shoulders. Monograms are all over the place. Tan, muscular, everything about them expensive from their shoes to their sweatbands. He was so out of place, so he looked away and pretended he couldn’t see them. The paperwork in front of him was suddenly very interesting. They throw their bags to the side as Coach Bishop blows his whistle, calling them in for a pre-season pep talk. 

This was going to be a long semester.


	2. Studying Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ronan Lynch playing tennis in a crisp white uniform for a private school was about as amusing of a sight this Earth could conjure up. ‘Preppy’ was not in his vocabulary, but hitting shit and winning was, so it was considered a compromise.
> 
> One might even say he looked graceful on the court if it wasn’t for the constant snarl plastered on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this came out fast bc it was basically already done and i have no patience!! it’s kind of short just wanted to get both halves of the beginning out

Ronan Lynch playing tennis in a crisp white uniform for a private school was about as amusing of a sight this Earth could conjure up. ‘Preppy’ was not in his vocabulary, but hitting shit and winning was, so it was considered a compromise. 

One might even say he looked graceful on the court if it wasn’t for the constant snarl plastered on his face.

“Yo, water boy.” He says as he jogs over to the bleachers, leaning on the railing next to where Adam sat with clipboard in hand. He knew Adam from some classes and he couldn’t quite grasp his opinion of him. 

Some days he would be meek, tired circles painted around his eyes while silently staring at the powerpoint on screen. Other days he would be fiery, arguing that quiz question six was worded unfairly, and if you read chapter three, you would know that there isn’t actual proof Socrates wrote anything at all (usually by this point the teacher just gave up). 

Ronan preferred the second mood; he’d watch Adam’s cheeks turn pink when a classmate would rebuttal his comment, flipping through notes to inevitably find the point to prove himself right. 

Despite how polite you pretend to be in a school uniform, it was always more enticing to be bad. Ronan would know. 

So, yeah, maybe he liked to be an asshole to see what reaction he could get out of him on the days he looked more awake than asleep. 

Or maybe he just didn’t know how to talk to him.

Or why he wanted to talk to him. 

“I’m not the fucking water boy.” Bingo. Adam had officially been team manager for five practices now and was not the water boy.

Ronan tilts his head to the side, squinting in the sun. “Right, so, what do you do again?” 

Adam didn’t expect him to know anyways. Out of everyone on the team, it didn’t seem like Ronan gave a flying shit about anything that didn’t involve pissing people off. At least, he was always bugging Adam. “I’m team manager.”

“My question still stands.” He looks pleased with his smugness as he crosses his arms and looks at Adam with a wicked smile. 

“I organize the team’s shit, basically. I do paperwork, get equipment ready, take data, watch game tapes.”

“Sounds fascinating.”

“It is, actually. It’s allowed me to notice that you are a terrible doubles partner.”

Adam didn’t know much about tennis but he did what he knows best and studied it. From Federer youtube clips to Williams being what twitter calls a “GOAT” (Adam didn’t know what it meant) it ended up being semi-interesting. 

He learned the different styles of hits and wrote notes on the boys when he watched them practice, consulting Coach Bishop with his findings every week. 

Samuel: Vicious backhand.  
Graham: Loves a lob.  
Ronan: Sucks at doubles. 

Ronan’s face twists, “I am not.”

Adam flips a few pages back on his clipboard. “You are, actually. Statistically. All your teammates do better with almost any other person on the team than with you because you over estimate your skill. What did you want again?” He stops flipping pages to look up at Ronan. Ronan’s perfectly strung together comeback is replaced with other, more pressing thoughs.

This Adam was more fun when the target in question wasn’t Ronan. He mangaes to mutter out, “Um. Water.”

“As I said, not my job.” He clicks his pen and steals a move from Sarah, giving him a polite, tight-lipped smile. 

“Fuck you.” Ronan snarls back. Adam never seems to struggle with coming up with something to say. While he was cool and eloquent even in his disputes, Ronan spat out spikes. “Do you even like sports?”

Suddenly defensive, Adam says, “I like sports,” trying to convince Ronan and himself. 

Ronan raises an incredulous eyebrow in response, “You like tennis.”

“Sure I do.”

“I feel like you have ulterior motives.” Since when did Ronan Lynch entertain himself with other people’s motives? 

“If you really must know, I’m trying to build my resume because I actually have to try to get into college rather than the rest of you who get their daddy to pay for their acceptance.”

Even after the extra curriculars he managed to squeeze into his already full schedule, it didn’t feel like enough. When he acted like this was his idea instead of Sarah’s, it felt better. If there was any way to boost himself up the ladder, he was going to do it come hell or high water. 

Ronan glares a hole through his shoulder, “You don’t know me.”

“Thankfully.” 

Ouch.

“Fuck you, Parrish. Seriously.” 

Adam rolls his eyes and throws a water bottle at him. “Think fast.”

“This yours?” Ronan barely catches it before eyeing the water bottle skeptically.

“It’s that or the Gatorade sink water. Your choice. Don’t tell me you’re going to throw a fit over it not being Fiji or whatever you people drink.”

“God, Fiji? I drink Voss. And no, I just don’t want any of your cooties.” Just like that, Ronan has reduced his comebacks to third-grade level while making himself seem like an even bigger asshole for actually having opinions on bottled water brands. Voss was the best, though. 

Needless to say, Adam wasn’t impressed. 

Ronan takes a swig to shut himself up and jogs back toward the court before Adam can notice his face turning red. That did not go according to plan. 

He was just hot from practice, nothing had to do with not being able to come up with a single sentence around the fucking water boy. The least intimidating person on the team after the mascot. 

Ronan felt an uncomfortable heat through his ears even though it was now mostly cloudy. When he glanced back, Adam was flipping lazily though his clipboard once more, looking much more unaffected by the conversation than Ronan felt. 

This was going to be a long season.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for fire cracker adam i just really like him that way even if it isn’t totally accurate


	3. Wins and Losses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled out the grey fabric carefully, fingers ghosting over the stitching that read, “Aglionby Tennis.” Coach Bishop insisted on getting him one after Adam said he didn’t need one for “just being manager.”
> 
> Taking a deep breath, he slipped the quarter-zip over his head and stared at himself once again. It wasn’t exactly what he meant when he said he wanted to be a part of something, but he supposed it was a start.

Some practices went better than others. The moments where he was shoulder to shoulder in the team huddle, hands all in made all the time sweeping tennis balls worth it. Other times, he would be included in the team lecture and feel responsible even if not possible physically. While riding his bike home, Coach Bishop’s words would replay in his head. 

“I know you guys can do better than this.”  
“You have to want it.”

Adam knew all about want. That word would permeate his entire adolescence.

He couldn’t understand a world where people didn’t want, were there people that had all they desired? Pacing the tennis courts, he would watch the boys leap into the air to return a hit, looking triumphant and masculine in a way that Adam never was. They were untouchable. 

Even Ronan, who would sometimes talk to him just to be annoying, had his own group of people that embraced him as abrasive as he seems. Time passed slowly in the lunchroom, watching everyone laugh with their friends, recounting inside jokes from years ago and then throwing half their plate away. When was he going to get to be a part of something?

He supposed it was hard to want when you didn’t know what it was like to not have something. For a friend to be a call away, to know you’d be something someday, to have everything so easy in reach when even small things like parent signatures were a battle for Adam. 

His parents didn’t want him, nor Blue when they briefly dated, why would Harvard? Yale? Anyone?

It seemed improbable at this point.

He stared at himself in the small, green framed mirror in his room. Blue made it for him out of Goodwill findings and various buttons, stickers, and ribbons from around her house. It was a birthday present, “for being my favorite coworker,” she said at the time. After they (Blue) decided they shouldn’t see each other “like that.” Post shower, he looked gloomy, wet hair dripping into his eyes. Compared to the smiley face stickers, he appeared unfitting. Did he always look this fragile? When he imagined himself, he looked mean. As much as he wanted to let people in, he had to protect himself. Now, he looked weak. Like any soft blow would wreck his meticulously built card house. 

He slowly unzipped his backpack and pulled out the grey fabric carefully, fingers ghosting over the stitching that read, “Aglionby Tennis.” Coach Bishop insisted on getting him one after Adam said he didn’t need one for “just being manager.”

Taking a deep breath, he slipped the quarter-zip over his head and stared at himself once again. It wasn’t exactly what he meant when he said he wanted to be a part of something, but he supposed it was a start. 

“You have to want it.”  
“You have to go for it.”

It was game day. 

\--

Adam is waiting in Coach Bishop’s office before the rest of the team arrives. He’s reviewing the schedule for the day when a familiar voice disrupts him, “Well shit. One of us is going to have to change.”

Ronan stands in front of Adam in the same quarter zip, grey sweat shorts, and some expensive Swedish tennis shoes with long socks coming out of the top. Somehow, he looks infinitely better than Adam in the same outfit. If _he_ wore the same socks, it would highlight his chicken legs, so he stuck with his khakis.

“You do realize we wear a uniform every day.” 

“Have you ever seen me in full uniform? Because I haven’t.” Of course, this was true. He had never seen Ronan in full uniform. With no one to impress, why try? It sounded like bliss to Adam.

“My point is, everyone in this school matches every day.”

“Okay, okay, sheesh, Parrish. It’s a joke.” Ronan glances down. “Do my socks look weird?”

Adam’s eyes snap up. “What?”

“You keep looking at my socks. Do they look weird or something?” Busted.

“No.”

If Adam thought it capable, he would say Ronan looks self-conscious as he reaches and starts to unzip his bag, “I have an extra ankle pair. Would that look better? I didn’t know what to pair with the shoes.” 

Adam shakes his head and puts his hand out, “No, keep those. I was just thinking I couldn’t pull them off, but they look good on you. It works with the shoes. I like the shorts too.”

At the compliments, Ronan’s eyebrows raise before shaking his head and saying, “I better go. Can’t be late for warmups.”

“Yep.” Damn socks. 

\--

Sitting on the bleachers in-between the courts, Adam watches both teams preform their nearly synchronized warm ups. When the other team’s bus rolled in, he watched a wolf’s pack of pretty private school boys file out, matching Wilson bags and track suits in tow. Many of them had on large headphones as if the drive was long and treacherous. 

Now, both teams ready themselves for the first match of the year. He hears the patter of sneakers going back and forth on the court, the wind being caught in a racket swung with no ball. Hanging onto the net, they swing their legs back and forth and circle their arms. He taps his pen, feeling nervous even though he now has no hand in their fate.

“Got your little clipboard ready to document my win?” Ronan looks at him through the fence.

“You’re going to win?” 

“Fuck yeah I’m going to win.” He looks offended that Adam could even see a world in which Ronan lost. 

“I wanted to watch Harrison’s. You play at the same time.” Adam says, holding up his clipboard with the schedule. 

“You’re watching mine, Parrish.” 

Ronan leaves no room for debate while he walks away and goes back to practicing his serves, his shirt lifting with each jump into the air. Adam thinks he doesn’t particularly mind the view even if Ronan is a dick.

__ 

Adam watches the doubles matches intently, they’ve won and lost one. The attitudes of the players leaving the court reflect their plays, slamming gates or meeting high fives with flashy smiles. 

When it’s time for Ronan’s match, Adam stands by the court, eager to see what’s going to happen. He flips the racket over and over and bounces on his feet. Adam can’t decide if it’s a nervous tick or if he’s just impatient. 

The match goes fast and Adam spends more time watching than taking his normal notes. He is surprised while watching Ronan meet the ball with a vicious swing that leaves the other player unable to return. He never did _that_ in practice. Every time Ronan gets a point, an evil smile spreads on his face, taunting his opponent. Adam would hate to be on the other side of that grimace. 

A swift serve and the other player just seems over it. It sails into the back corner before he can get it and the team lets out an excited roar.

“Game.” 

A breathless, sweaty Ronan bumps into Adam outside the court. Adam hates to say it, but he’s glowing. Gatorade bottle in hand, he squirts water into his mouth, “Did you get that?”

“I got it.”

“You can just go ahead and write little W’s in my game slots for the rest of the season.” He points to Adam’s clipboard.

Adam can’t help but slightly smile at Ronan’s uninhibited confidence, “Is that so? So I don’t have to watch anymore of your matches? You won’t mind?”

“That’s _not_ what I said.” 

“Why did you care that I watch yours anyway?”

Ronan was as scared as this question from Adam as he was when he asked it to himself. He shouldn’t care what Adam thinks about him. He’s just a person, a meaningless person. But, of course, that wasn’t true. He mutters, “I don’t know.” He thinks he probably knows why he cares. He hates why he cares because it is so inexplicably out of the question. It always is. He pauses.

“Well. What do we do now?” Adam replies. It sounded like he had just heard Ronan’s inner thoughts and was trying out a pick-up line. 

Ronan freezes. “What?” 

“Now that we’ve won. What do we do now?”

Ronan lets out a breath. “Oh. We take a team picture and then go eat a fuck ton of food.”

Adam nods, “Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok i made adam and blue date and they're ninos coworkers... so sorry for the confusion  
> again im not the best writer by any means i just wanted to get this concept out!!
> 
> also, firecracker adam and cocky ronan made a fabulous couple, don't you think? too bad they only deny themselves
> 
> thanks for reading, i appreciate all your comments sm :)


	4. Practice Makes Perfect

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The locker room door is blocked by one Ronan Lynch. He stands, arms crossed in all black like a Wednesday Addams impersonation. 
> 
> “Then move.” Adam says, standing with his hand wrapped around his bag strap. 
> 
> Stubborn, meet stubborn. 
> 
> Ronan bites back a ‘make me’ and moves to the side. Part of him wishes he would’ve said it just to see what Adam would do—get mad, push him, make this exciting. But he just moves to the side, lets the door slam behind Adam, and then follows him in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, sorry this took a while bc this is kind of the middle awkward part before other parts.. so...... hope you enjoy!!! more flirting ensues!!

For the first time in Aglionby history, Adam was staring at his face on the common room TV. The screen rotates through its weekly ‘Raven News Report’, showing club dates, student shout-outs, and reminders. No matter how many times he’s been at an event that is photographed for the school’s Facebook page, somehow his face is always excluded. 

Now, though, he stares at himself. Well, him and four other boys from the team. They’re smiling with arms around each other, the boys in matching uniforms and Adam in a tennis t-shirt, captioned with, “The tennis team celebrates their win against Heritage Prep!”

Then, a transition to the next photo and it’s gone. It’s meaningless, really. A measly combination of pixels on a screen. 

Despite the fact the pictures will be swapped out by next Monday and no one pays attention to them anyways, looking at it pangs a feeling uncommon for imposters within private school walls: belonging.

__ 

The locker room door is blocked by one Ronan Lynch. He stands, arms crossed in all black like a Wednesday Addams impersonation. He didn’t know what was going on with them. He couldn’t believe there even was a ‘them’ to consider. Adam would bite back every time Ronan tried to be a douche bag, but instead of Ronan stopping, he kept choosing to be around Adam. 

In a way, it was the first time anyone had chosen Adam. His own family didn’t want him, Blue had no choice to not see him due to work, and no one at this school tried to befriend him. Except Ronan. If you could call insistently insulting each other befriending someone. 

“Are you locked out?” Adam asks, Ronan doesn’t move.

“No.”

" _Then move._ " Adam says, standing with his hand wrapped around his bag strap. 

Stubborn, meet stubborn. 

It was like Newton’s third law of motion. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Every time Ronan pushed, Adam pushed back. Adam hated to admit it was kind of fun. 

Ronan bites back a _'make me'_ and moves to the side. Part of him wishes he would’ve said it just to see what Adam would do—get mad, push him, make this exciting. But all he does is move to the side, let the door slam behind Adam, and then turn to follow him in. 

By the time Adam has put his backpack in his locker, he’s met with Ronan holding one of the water carriers.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m dressed early. Thought I’d help.” Ronan gestures to his outfit, gym shirts, an athletic t-shirt, and even a tiny sweatband on his wrist, all in black. 

This was different. Before, Adam was always convenient to talk to. Ronan’s motivations could be explained partially. Now, this, it was confusing— Ronan was choosing to spend extra time with Adam. ”When would you willingly help someone for no reason?”

“Ouch, Parrish. You’ve harshly judged my character. I can be very helpful.”

He couldn’t stand the possibility of this being some joke to Ronan; he wanted to protect himself. “Consider this, I don’t want your help.”

“Okay.” Ronan eyes Adam coolly then walks out the door without dropping the carrier. Asshole. 

Ronan pushes, he pushes back. Fuck it. Adam watches him walk down the hall before shouting, “Well. Wait. We still need ice.” A smirk spreads on Ronan’s face before he stops to turn around and waits for Adam to catch up with him. Adam wants to question why he’s doing this—why, of all people would someone choose to spend their time with Adam Parrish? Was it some elaborate prank? He wants to ruin it by questioning it, but he also just wants to let himself have it. So, he does. They walk together to the lunchroom where Adam grabs the cooler and starts to scoop ice in. It’s loud, then quiet. 

He continues his daily practice routine of going outside, getting the tennis balls, and making sure the court is clear. Ronan trails behind him with every step before settling on leaning on the fence while Adam sits on the bench, waiting for the rest of the boys to come out and for practice to begin. 

One unexpected trait about Ronan Lynch is how much he can talk, mostly when in close proximity to Adam Parrish. For someone who normally speaks in a variety of snarls, he is starting to make a habit of talking Adam’s ear off anytime they’re with each other. One expected trait about Ronan Lynch is that when he is talking, it’s complaining about something or someone. Right now, it’s about how his old music teacher was a bitch because she rejected rock music as a third-grade performance theme. Adam doesn’t really mind.

“Oh. I saw you on the slideshow thing. Can’t believe they put all your ugly-asses in and not mine.”

This caused several revelations: 1. Ronan noticed him on the slideshow. 2. Ronan watches the slideshow? Weird. 

“You wanted them to put your ‘ugly ass’ in too?” Adam uses finger quotes.

“No, I meant—shut up.”

“Next time, Ronan, if you want a picture with me, you can just ask.” As he tilts his head, a coy smile creeps across Adam’s face.

“I wasn’t saying that. Fuck you. Don’t use my first name.”

“Why’s that?” Ronan swears he hears a distinct switch from Adam’s normal voice to some country twang and it makes his mouth go dry. He swallows. Adam looks up at him, pretty blue eyes meeting his own harsh looking ones. Slender fingers tapping a pencil on his clipboard. And those god damn freckles. Ronan was fucked. 

__

Ronan’s pre-practice story time became as much as a routine as Ronan grabbing the third water carrier. He had a lot more to say than Adam ever assumed and even if he wouldn’t admit it, Adam liked having this secret side of him to himself. He’d watch him eye-roll in Latin, and then get a kinder side (as kind as a Lynch could be) in practice. He wondered if this is how he was to Gansey. Adam previously wondered how someone so mature and distinguished could ever associate themselves with Ronan, who would prank substitute teachers for fun. He only halfway understood now.

In fact, he felt like all his relationships were slowly opening to secrets not before seen from his perspective. Previously ignored eye-contact was now met with a hallway fist bump. Teachers that used to be annoyed with his classroom debates now stop him after class to mention the years they played tennis for the Aglionby team ‘back in their day’. Compared to before, it practically felt like a 500 Days of Summer style flash mob. Blue even said he _looked_ good. She quickly clarified that she wasn’t hitting on him, but being in the sun was giving him more freckles and she liked them. If you asked Adam, he would say none of him looked ‘good’, but who was he to argue with people’s opinions? 

Okay, he was totally the type of person to argue with someone’s opinions, but he let himself have this one. Even if she wasn’t hitting on him.

“Adam.” Ronan said. He had zoned off, definitely not imagining that flash mob thing. 

“Huh?”

“I said, I have a legendary story to tell you.” Ronan sits next to Adam on the bench, eagerly leaning forward. 

“Legendary, you say?” Adam props his chin up with his hand and raises his eyebrows.

“My first date: gone wrong.” Ronan frames the words with his hands like he is pitching a movie concept.

“Oh, do tell.” 

“So, basically, my brother made me go out with this girl because he liked her sister. Don’t ask, I don’t know either. I don’t even like... but, anyways, we were going to the movies.” Ronan explains.

“What movie?”

“Doesn’t matter. The important part is I had just turned fifteen and was all excited about my learner’s permit.” 

“Your first date was at fifteen?” It comes out more judgmental than Adam intends, for his first date was at sixteen, he just assumed Ronan was more of a player than that.

“No one here interests me. And I scare people.”

“You don’t scare me.” Adam says intently. Ronan glares at him.

“Can you stop interrupting me? I’m telling a story.” Adam mimics zipping his lips. “Okay, so, she was into me, I guess because she was like, holding my hand during the movie even though it was very sweaty. And then we get back to her place, my brother was driving. Well, he went inside with the sister, so we were just sitting in the car listening to music. And the fucking radio station Declan was using to impress his girl starts playing some slow-dance song. She looks at me with these eyes and I’m like, “Oh shit.” and then leans in to kiss me.” 

Ronan goes quiet as he subconsciously mimics this action to Adam on the bench and Adam’s stomach drops. He stares at Ronan’s lips. He has never been kissed before. Ronan stops. Adam lets out a breath and looks back to the court, his hands suddenly sweaty from gripping the bench. Ronan continues, “But, I freak out. I can’t kiss her. I just kept looking at her weird lip gloss. So, I’m like, ‘Hey! I just got my learner’s permit! Let me take you for a spin.”

Adam relaxes as Ronan continues. He tries his best to take his thoughts from, ‘What the fuck just happened?’ back to listening. Whatever this thing was, it definitely wasn’t that. Did he want it to be that? He shakes his head and reminds himself he’s listening, not thinking. 

“I see where this is going and the mechanic inside me is already crying.”

“So, I’m like, screw Declan. I’m driving this bitch. I do a loop around her neighborhood, feeling like a badass. Then as I’m pulling back in, Declan is standing on the porch, arms crossed, giving me a death glare. All of a sudden I forget how to break. I probably forgot how to breathe. I wasn’t even supposed to be driving his car.”

Okay, now he really was listening. A smile breaks out on Adam’s face. “No.”

“At this point, I’m having a panic attack, so I just go full speed, screaming like a little girl, into her garage while my brother watches me completely wreck his car. The girl was screaming every cuss word in the book and I couldn’t move. I had just driven into someone’s shut garage. The parents had those security cameras so it was all recorded. Like, you should’ve seen my face, Adam. It was some Ghostface shit.” 

“Oh my god.” Adam laughs, really laughs and Ronan can’t believe his ears. He would sign up to hear embarrassing stories about Ronan forever. 

“Are you laughing at me?” Ronan pretends to be offended, but is smiling.

“No.”

“I didn’t think it was possible. You’re laughing.” Ronan thinks he’s won the lottery. Making Mr. “I don’t find social misconduct funny” laugh. He didn’t know it was his mission until now. 

“No, it’s stupid. You were being an idiot like you always are.” Adam puts on his serious face as best as he can, but it isn’t working well. He can’t stop imagining Ronan’s dumb face while driving straight into a closed garage door.

“An idiot that can make you laugh.” He points a finger in accusation.

“Oh my god, shut up.” Adam covers his face with his hands, the parts visible turning a shade of red. 

“I will relish in this forever.” Ronan says, looking triumphant. “Look at you. Are you fucking blushing, Parrish?” He definitely was, and Ronan knew because he always paid acute attention to Adam’s face. And hands. And voice.

“Stooop.” Adam pops up from the bench, embarrassed he actually cannot stop laughing. It wasn’t fair. He should be mad, really. Ronan destroyed a perfectly good car while he rides a bike to school everyday. He’s mad that he isn’t mad and that his composure his always perfectly contained until now. Until Ronan fucking Lynch. What was happening? 

Ronan decides making Adam laugh probably feels as good as winning, and winning is his favorite feeling in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also. the car story is an 100% true story from my roommate and i died the first time hearing it. she's been dating the guy whose garage she ran into for like six years now. 
> 
> alsoooo, don't you live for slightly flirtly adam and ronan not knowing if he's making it up in his head? and adam not realizing the total power he has over him? phew


	5. Drenched

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam Parrish knew exactly how to flirt with someone until he liked them. There was something about realizing the intentions behind his actions that made him overthink what he was saying. In short, he was a flirt until he actually needed to be one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok folks we have a lot of dialogue here because that's how it sounds in my head, also. plot??? we don't know her. there may or may not be a scene in here that i have seen many people talk about... that includes ronan wiping his sweat... and adam losing his shit. MAYBE.

It seemed like all of Adam’s crushes developed in a similar way. In that, there wasn’t much development to them at all. It went from, “I like this person’s company” to, “ _Oh_ , that’s why,” and then he knew he was screwed. It was like there was no moment between watching the tide come in and getting soaked from a wave. The less you expected it, the worse it was-- liking people complicated things.

Despite the inconvenience of it all, it happened all the god damn time. He would get caught up on the cute cashier that said he liked his shirt, or the girl touching his arm when she said thank you for fixing her car. 

In fact, it all started with his Kindergarten teacher, kissing him on top of his head. Warmness spread through his belly, a side effect of the motherly affection he had never experienced before. A gift for just for being himself—he didn’t know it was possible. 

One time, it was Blue, when she leaned in to put one of her clips in Adam’s hair, gloriously laughing and smelling like lavender. 

This is all to say, it’s not an unfamiliar process. He recognizes the moment in which the switch flips and his already crowded brain has to shift to include this new version of the person he's interested in. Then, immediately shut it down and pretend nothing happened because nothing seems to end well in the combination that includes Adam Parrish and love. At least, not yet.

_He was used to it._

He just wasn’t expecting the next time it would happen, Ronan Lynch would be the cause. 

__ 

It was the beginning of October but still entirely too hot. The dollar general had put up their Halloween décor, a hopeful sign of cooler days, but the promise wasn’t kept. Green trees stubbornly held onto their leaves, standing still in the windless heat.

Adam thought he could convince his body to stay cool, but sweat was still beading around his neck from the relentless sun. Next practice, he thinks, he would just wear his undershirt and khakis. He found it weird to change if he wasn’t the one working out, but he regretted it now. Unbuttoning his shirt cuffs, he rolls his white sleeves to his elbows, revealing his tanned skin.

Earlier, Adam had to hold someone’s feet down while they were doing sit-ups. He was grateful he wasn’t the one working out. When he turned around, Ronan was watching him, and he suddenly became self-conscious he was doing something wrong. He always looked like he was ready to eat him alive. He’s so fucking judgmental. His eyes shift their gaze to Ronan now, who’s angrily playing against the ball machine. Typical—he would be the one to get mad at an inanimate object. 

He still doesn’t completely know how he feels about Ronan, or how Ronan feels about him. Admittedly, he liked listening to his stories before and after practice, but he never knew if he was going to get a pliable or non-budging Ronan; one he could mess with, or one he should avoid. So, yeah, he had no idea how to feel. However, he was about to receive a hint. 

Right before his eyes, a sweaty Ronan Lynch lifts up his flimsy t-shirt to wipe his face, revealing his equally sweaty, toned stomach. Fuck. Adam swallows and looks away, it suddenly becoming even hotter outside. His cheeks burn and he squirts water in his mouth at an attempt to regain his calm, but the scene repeats in his mind.

Ronan. Halfway shirtless. Sculpted. Tan. Marble statue worthy. Having no idea what that just did to Adam. 

Oh.

Okay. 

His brain buffers.

Adam thinks about the magazine clippings he has saved, cut out pictures of men he wants to be—or. Something else, if it’s night and no one is there to intrude on Adam’s thoughts. He knows what it means, knows thinking that while on top of a church is pretty fucking ironic. 

A feeling of desire rushes to Adam’s skull, something he’s ever so familiar with. Something he’s used to denying himself due to all the past results. Has it ever ended well? Ronan, of all people, was the last person he would want to mess with in a matter like this. Adam was such a joke.

He wants to curse at the sky—whoever is up there—why do you make people I want to be friends with so attractive?

There, of course, is no answer.

No one up there is looking out for Adam Parrish. If they were, they were doing a shitty-ass job so far.

Well, fuck. 

__

“Ow, that hurts.”

“Stop being a baby, Adam.”

“I haven’t done this before!” Adam sits on Blue Sargent’s floor, cross legged and currently held hostage. An eyeliner brush was the weapon of choice, and Blue was the assailant.

“You said if I got more tips than you, I could do your makeup. And I did.” Blue says with a frown.

“You’re a girl! Of course you got more tips.” Adam knows Blue is going to yell at him for this before he even finishes what he's saying. 

“I cannot believe you would insinuate my gender would define how much money someone would pay me. Customer service is all personality and I was really hamming it up this week so I could do this. I’m almost done, just stop moving.” Blue furrows her eyebrows in concentration as she leans close to Adam, attempting the perfect wing. “Okay, done.” She claps. “You look so good. I did a great job, if I do say so myself.”

“I’m scared to look at myself.” Adam says as Blue hands him a mirror. When he lifts it to his face, he’s surprised to not hate it as much as he thought he would. The top of his eye is lined in a smoky navy, but slightly smudged. His cheeks were a shiny peach that looked soft to the touch. She spared him with the lip-gloss. 

“So?” Blue smiles confidently, and Adam sets the mirror down.

Quietly, Adam says, “I think I like someone.” 

“What? Who?” Blue suddenly looks excited.

Adam cringes while saying, “A boy from school,” running a hand through his hair and definitely not looking at Blue.

“A _private school boy?_ Adam Parrish, no. _No_. That isn’t allowed.” Blue crosses her arms.

“I know. Trust me. I don’t want to be in this situation either.” Adam sounds desperate to plead his case. It was an unspoken rule between them that they had to stick together between all the rich, preppy people in this town. Even though Adam attended Aglionby now, they both agreed it didn't count. The students and parents at Aglionby lacked the character that a little public school gives you. Those people have never uttered the word 'coupon'. Was Adam wrong to assume Ronan seemed different than that?

“We hate them. They’re all sons of bitches.” 

“He hates it there, too. If that makes it any better,” Adam says in Ronan’s defense.

Blue uncrosses her arms, sighs, and then asks, “Do you have any pictures?” A tiny smile greets Adam’s face and he pulls out his phone to show Blue the team picture. They lean in close, making comments about everyone in the photo. Various candles and lamps fill the room with a warm glow and Adam laughs at Blue’s assessments of the boys. He’s safe with her.

Blue insists on having a mini photoshoot with Adam’s makeup, draping random fabrics over his shoulder to replicate some editorial magazine. “Why are you so pretty? Shit, if this guy doesn’t date you, I guess I will.”

“Been there, done that. Ready for round two, or something?”

“I hate you.” Blue smiles. “Wait. Don’t move. That’s the one. Ugh, yes. I’m a genius.”

__ 

Adam Parrish knew exactly how to flirt with someone until he liked them. There was something about realizing the intentions behind his actions that made him overthink what he was doing. In short, he was a flirt until he actually needed to be one. 

Which is why Ronan now sat in front of him, face drenched in water. 

You see, normally, when you squeeze a Gatorade water bottle, a small puff of mist blows into the air. Adam thought it might be a cute thing to do with Ronan sitting next to him, a delicate touch _from_ him but not _by_ him. However, as he lifted the bottle to Ronan, he tilted it a smidge too far, resulting in squirting ice water all over his face.

Ronan spits and then gasps, in shock from the cold, “What the fuck?”

Adam’s eyes go wide. Shit shit shit. “Shit, I didn’t mean to do that.” Ronan looks rightfully pissed as he wipes his face with his hand. Without a doubt, there was no worse way this situation could’ve gone. Adam wants to melt into the concrete.

“You were pointing a water bottle at my face, what exactly did you think would happen?” Even though Adam is usually the debater, now Ronan is taking shots at him. He has no grounds to plead his case. Ronan is giving a death glare and Adam can’t even meet it, he just stares at the ground. 

His voice comes out small and desperate, “The puff thing,” he mumbles. “The little water.. poof! You know?” He demonstrates with his hands.

“Why would you want to do that?” Ronan grumbles. He was right to assume it wasn’t very fun being on Ronan’s bad side. How could Adam seamlessly explain his motives? I wanted to see your face when it happened. I wanted to touch you, but I can’t yet. Before Adam has time to think about how to defend himself, Ronan reaches for his own water and unscrews the cap.

“ _Don't_. It was an accident.” Adam pleads and puts his hands out in front of him in self-defense. 

Ronan only smirks, “Payback is a bitch, Parrish,” he says before he squeezes the bottle and a wide stream of water hits Adam in the chest. It soaks through his shirt and clings to his chest. He shrieks and jumps away, feeling exposed even though he is still clothed. The boys on the court turn to look at what is going on and Adam knows he looks like an absolute idiot. 

Adam yells out, “Sorry, I’m fine!” before turning back to Ronan. “Why would you do that?” He holds his hands out in question and tries to look intimidating, but it doesn’t work. 

“You did it first.” Ronan crosses his arms, pleased with his attack and at Adam looking as flustered as ever.

“On _accident_. I was just trying to… I don’t know.” His brain screams: I was just trying to flirt with you, Ronan! But, it did not work. And I will now go crawl into my cave.

“Leave the whole being an asshole thing to me, Parrish.” Ronan says, but there isn’t much malice behind his words. A sneaky smile graces his face, “Game day tomorrow. Plan on doing a wet t-shirt contest if we win?” He quirks an eyebrow as if that might be something he would actually like to see.

Adam huffs and crosses his arms, a move he learned from Blue. “Shut up. Plan on losing?”

Ronan smiles a kind smile, which only means the words behind it are anything but nice. “Aw, that’s really cute, but I don’t lose.” His icy eyes meet Adam’s as Ronan stares him down. He had officially lost his cool at the hands of Ronan Lynch, and it wouldn’t be the last time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's was only fair that i include a scene where ronan lifts up his shirt and wipe his face off, right?? that's really what its all about anyways. also, blue and adam just make me go awwwww. i love them. stay tuned for next chapter, should be up next sunday! we get to say hi to gansey, finalllllllyyyy


	6. Faking It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man, this is the longest one so far.... but i wanted all the drama to go down in one ch..... soooo

A game day always brought a certain life to the air. Even though the rest of the school didn’t give a shit about tennis (Adam knows he sure as hell didn’t before this semester) it was exciting when you were a part of the team. You would walk through the hall just a little more eagerly than a regular practice day, knowing you’d either be ending the night celebrating or disappointed but so tired it didn’t even matter. 

Even though it was more work to load everything onto the bus, Adam thought the commutes made it more fun. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting the first time—everyone chanting game songs, passing around a bag of beef jerky, maybe. It wasn’t that. Really, it was just a bunch of boys in headphones, but something about a twenty minute road trip in a fancy charter bus made the whole ordeal so much better. 

After loading all the usual necessities into the back with Coach Bishop, he finally goes to the front of the bus with just his backpack, swooping into the first seat. 

He’s ready to close his eyes and take a nap, but Ronan yells out, “Parrish, I saved you a seat,” from the back of the bus.

Adam mumbles something that sounds like a, “Oh, okay,” before heading back to where Ronan sat. 

“Don’t look so thrilled.” Ronan deadpanned. He hadn’t brought up the water issue again, but Adam still felt embarrassed by it. He didn’t want Ronan to think he didn’t like him. Or, worse, he didn’t want Ronan to think that Adam did. Walking back, he sees Ronan wide-legged on the ugly patterned seat and assumes he will scooch in to give Adam more room. He doesn’t, so they end up with their legs pressed together. 

“It’s been a long day.” Adam says. It had. Even with the prospect of a game, he dropped his lunch tray, opened the stall to a clogged toilet, and scored worse on his math exam than expected.

Ronan pulls a headphone from his ear, “Take one of my air pods.” 

Adams stares at his hand as if he just asked him to eat a worm. “Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

He crosses his arms. “I refuse to put an air pod in my ear.” Ronan rolls his eyes at that.

“Will you get your edgy card revoked? Fuck off.” Ronan rolls his eyes but drops the headphone into Adam’s lap anyways. “It’s my pre-game ritual. Listen.”

Adam reluctantly puts it in his ear and is greeted with a sound that resembles the time all the pizza pans fell on top of each other at Nino’s. “Ronan, this is terrible. I’m going to get a headache.” He pulls out the air pod and hands it back while Ronan plucks a bag of skittles from his bag. He pops a few in his mouth and then holds the bag out to Adam. He shakes his head.

“Put your hand out.” Ronan says, so Adam does. He doesn’t know why he tries to fight him but also obeys his requests. It’s kind of terrifying how easily he persuades him sometimes. Ronan braces the bottom of Adam’s hand with his, and then pours some skittles into his palm.

“I didn’t want any.”

“Don’t eat them, then, dickward. I don’t care.” Ronan says in a way that makes Adam think he very much did care, so he puts one in his mouth. Adam turns his body so he is sideways on the seat and his feet press into Ronan’s leg, head leaning onto the seat.

“You nervous?” He asks.

“No.”

“They’re pretty good, looking at their stats.” Adam replies. It was true. This team had a near flawless record, and Adam wasn’t sure how they would stack up against them. He thought maybe some of the team could use a bit of shock to their 24 karat gold confidence, but he kept that to himself.

“Thanks for the bode of confidence.” Ronan says. 

“No problem.” Adam smiles.

__ 

The pavement is being pounded by Adam’s nervous foot over and over again. The games aren’t going great, they’ve lost a few of their doubles matches and the players that are usually flawless are making careless mistakes. With all the highs of being included on the team, they were met with equal lows. It hurt to lose and to have no control over what happened. 

He leaned forward on the bench, watching Ronan head onto the court. He watches him bite down on his teeth and clench his jaw, flipping the racket over and over in his hand. Bouncing the ball, he trots on his feet, readying himself for the match. He looked nervous, Adam realized. It was a strange look for a Lynch. It just didn’t _match_.

 _Come on_ , Adam wants to telepathically send to him, but the message doesn’t go through. Adam had never been a huge sports fan, but he couldn’t help jumping up from his bleacher spot when an exciting play was made, a Raven volleying the ball into a corner and yelping when they score.

Now, though, he was watching a very pissed off Ronan Lynch crumble. Every point-winning move Ronan would usually hit were being deflected with no second thought. Adam thought based on the look on his face that he might snap his racket in half.

It’s down to the final point; the air stills. The ball swings out of bounds.

And, we lost. Fuck. Adam jots down ‘Out of bounds’ next to Ronan’s name. He hears Ronan mutter expletives while leaving the court. The coach eyes him and Adam prays he doesn’t come sit next to him because he has nothing to say. 

But, he comes stomping over and falls onto the bench next to Adam with his whole bodt weight, anger searing off his skin. He squirts water into his mouth before leaning back and covering his face with his hands. He glances at Adam several times before deciding to pick at a string on his shorts. 

Adam decides he has to break the ice. “Well, what did you want to say, then?”

Ronan sneers. “What?”

“You keep looking at me like you’re about to say something and then you don’t.”

“I don’t have shit to say,” Ronan snarls and squirts more water into his mouth. 

“Alright.” Adam glances back out to the games and clicks his pen.

“That fucking shit pisses me off.” He pauses. “I don’t lose.” This was actually mostly true—Ronan rarely lost, he was just that good. Ronan pivots his foot, his knee swinging in and out, just barely hitting Adam’s when it veers left. Adam pointedly ignores it. “One fucking point. Bullshit. And he… his blonde little bitch ass. In their ugly purple uniforms. He’s been training with some fucking Russian lady or some shit.” Ronan pauses, and then looks back at Adam. “Did you bike here?”

Adam nods.

“Want a ride back?” Ronan asks.

“I’m okay.”

“I was thinking about getting ice cream. Come with me.” Ronan says.

Adam scratches his ear. “I have homework.” He couldn’t waste money on something as stupid as ice cream. And he wasn’t sure how great of an idea it was to be with Ronan alone, he might do something dumb. Ronan’s scowl turns into a frown and he almost regrets his decision. He stares at the ground for another minute before springing up and walking somewhere.

__

On the bus, Ronan grumbles down the aisle but still ends up next to Adam. Adam thought after him walking away earlier, he would avoid him, but apparently not.

“You were right. They were better than me.” Ronan snaps.

“I never said that.” Adam says.

“You said they were good.” Ronan puts an accusatory hand out.

“They are good. Everyone has on days and off days.”

Ronan looks angry, “Does it not matter to you? That we lost? Thought you cared about every little score.” Adam couldn’t tell if this was about him turning him down for ice-cream or still just mad he lost.

“It matters, but I can’t change what has happened.” When you live the life Adam Parrish has, you realize that much of the world is out of your hands. There is no point in relenting over why something happened because when you realize there was no greater point to it all, it hurts worse. He learned the only option was to acknowledge it and move on. To think that someone or something was making all this happen to him would pain him more than assuming there was no reason at all.

“Why are you always so put together all the time?” Ronan says, offended that Adam can keep his cool when he feels like he’s bursting at the seams. 

“I’m not, really. In my head.” If only Ronan knew how many times Adam wanted to scream, or smash something, or punch someone. But, that would only be revealing something within himself that he didn’t want to accept. His purpose now was to gain other’s respect, even if he didn’t respect them, and to do that he needed to be composed.

“You’re like a fucking pageant queen, Parrish. Answering all these questions. ‘I just want world peace.’” Ronan mimics in a high-pitched voice.

“You think I’m pretty enough to be a pageant queen, Ronan?” Adam replies with a teasing smile and that slight extra bit of accent that Ronan can’t stand.

“You in a dress? Hell no.”

Adam reaches out and slowly walks his fingers across Ronan’s bare knee. “You are just too kind. It’s always been a dream of mine but I couldn’t figure out how to manage the swimsuit contest.” They both watch Adam’s fingers. It was like a broken rule, you could get away with it as long as you didn’t say anything about it. Ronan doesn’t move, let alone say anything. “You know where you should get a tattoo?”

Ronan exhales, “Where?”

“Right here.” Adam taps his finger on his knee and then takes his hand back.

“On my knee?”

“Like, above it.” Adam cocks his head as if he’s picturing where it should go.

“Of what?” Ronan asks.

“Up to you. It’s your knee.” Adam replies and Ronan pushes his knee in further as if to ask for Adam’s hand back, but he can’t think of a casual way to do it. Adam turns to stare out the window and when he looks back, Ronan has his headphones back in with his eyes closed. He decides to do the same. 

__

It was an early Saturday morning, the kind that usually brings peace and rest. Except, Adam had a late shift last night and now had a morning practice to prepare for their last few games. Then work, and more work. Therefore, he was in a royally bad mood.

He scrubbed his skin raw in the shower and couldn’t find a suitable t-shirt to wear for practice. The team hadn’t seen him in something that wasn’t a uniform and all his non-uniform shirts were thin and faded. Settling for a grey sweatshirt and camo shorts, he went out to ride his dew-covered bike to school—the last place he felt like being.

When he got there, it was like Ronan was waiting for him. “Parrish. What the _fuck_ are you wearing?” Ronan looked delighted. Of course, he was wearing some expensive looking athletic set and an even nicer looking pair of fresh sneakers. 

Adam looks self-consciously down at his clothes. He should’ve just worn the size-too-small gym shorts. “My clothes. Do you have a problem?”

“Camouflage. You wear _camo_. Yee-haw, Parrish. We’re really in the country now.”

“They’re old.” He didn’t mention that everything he owned was old, down to the hand-me-down uniform.

“I can tell.” Ronan bites back.

“I’m not in the mood today, Lynch.” Adam snaps, not a threat as much as a warning.

Ronan cocks his head, “Ah, pissy on this Saturday, are we?”

Adam threw his hands up. “Sorry I forgot my Gucci slides. If you forgot, I don’t exist to impress you people.”

Ronan stops. “Gansey actually has those, you know.”

“I’m not surprised.” Adam mumbles and walks away to go to his spot. Ronan follows him.

“I was kidding. About the pants. They’re fine… they look normal.” Ronan tries to take back what he said, but he never was much of a liar. Truth be told, nothing looked bad on Adam Parrish, so it really wasn’t a lie at all.

“Stop trying to be fake nice. It doesn’t look good on you.”

“Okay. Well. Stop making that weird sad-face. I don’t like it.” Ronan says, looking fully serious about what he had said.

“Don’t you have a warm-up to be getting to, Ronan?” Adam says, and of course, he’s right. Ronan grumpily walks onto the court, leaving Adam unimpressed and still in a sour mood.

__

Adam sits on the bench for the whole time, thinking about how many better ways his time could be being spent right now. Sleeping, for instance. All he wants to do by the end of practice is go home, but Ronan is walking up to him as soon as they are released. Adam slings his bag over his shoulder, eager to make a quick exit.

“Parrish. Come play with me.” Damnit.

“Practice is over.”

“Exactly. You won’t embarrass your skinny ass if everyone is gone.” Ronan smiles.

“No.”

“Come on.” Ronan Lynch was actually begging him to do something. It was a confusing sight.

“I don’t play. I’ve never played.” For having a semester quite surrounded around tennis, it was true that Adam had never actually picked up a racket and tried it himself. He could be a natural, but he figured not due to his lack of experience.

“Dude, you’re good at everything. I want to see you fail at _something_.” Ronan says, and Adam is surprised that Ronan thinks he’s good at everything when all he sees is someone who isn’t good enough.

“Well that’s just—no. I’m going home.”

Ronan tries another angle. “Unless you’re scared you’ll lose.”

“I will undoubtedly lose. I don’t play tennis, Ronan.” Valid point. “Go ask one of your friends, I’m leaving.”

Ronan places a hand on his heart. “Ouch, Parrish. That hurts. I thought we were friends. Who are your friends, then, by the way? I don’t really seem to see them anywhere.”

“Goodbye, Ronan.” Adam turns around to walk away.

“Aw, did I hurt your feelings?” Ronan sticks out his bottom lip in pity.

Adam turns back around to defend himself once more. “No, you’re just fucking annoying, so I’m leaving.”

“See that anger? You, my friend, need to hit a ball.” Ronan extends a racket.

Adam throws his hands up, “Jesus Christ, if I do it will you leave me the fuck alone about it?”

Ronan smiles, knowing he has won. “Sure.”

Adam drops his bag. “Five minutes. I have shit to do.” He snatches the racket from Ronan’s hands and walks onto the court. Ronan was such an asshole, but maybe Adam was too. They were friends, he thought, but he had to say something to sabotage it for himself. Luckily or not, it didn’t work. 

As predicted, Adam was terrible, but he does an adorable victory yelp every time he hits it back. He was surprised to see as soon as he started playing, he did feel better to hit something, especially in Ronan’s direction.

“You have to follow through with your arm.” Surprisingly, Ronan was a good teacher, but Adam was glad they were at a distance. He thinks if Ronan was next to him and moving his body to show him how to hit it, he wouldn’t make it to work at all.

“I’m trying.” Adam whined like a child.

“Like, just don’t stop or else your ball will go way to high or out of bounds. You have to swing it all the way through.” Ronan demonstrates, and Adam tries it. He successfully hits it back and Ronan smiles. “Yes, that. Good job.” 

Adam wouldn’t admit it to anyone but he probably could recount every compliment given to him in the past three years. He didn’t want to care what anyone else thought, but it always felt so damn good. Like, maybe his hard work was paying off and one day he wouldn’t be the ‘other’. He could be the, ‘them’, the ‘us.”

Every time Ronan this the ball it goes flying into a corner, leaving Adam to chase it and hit it back if he’s lucky. He can feel Ronan’s eyes watching him and he lifts up his arm to attempt a serve. It makes him feel nervous. Adam was scrawny, ten pounds soaking wet. Ronan was golden, confidence radiated from him. 

Practice after practice, Adam would notice the narrowing of his eyes, readying himself for the hit. The way his calf muscles flexed as he dashed towards the ball, getting a peek of the ever-rare genuine smile after a tough win. His fingers wrapped around the racket. These flashes of Ronan took up more of Adam’s brain than he wanted to admit. He was supposed to be getting rid of his crush, not getting more into him. Dull moments in history class were now replaced by all the times they’ve touched, accidentally or on purpose. The truth was, Ronan was the only person in this school to treat him like he was an equal, even if that meant he was receiving the same asshole personality as everyone else. 

“Dude.” Ronan said. “You’ve missed the past five hits. Focus.”

Adam groans. “This sport sucks.”

“No, you suck.”

“When did you start playing? At age seven at a country club? Do you want to know what I was doing at age seven? Learning how to mow.”

“And I bet now you’re really good at it.” Ronan smiles sneakily.

Adam pulls the racket back and swings as hard as he can, hitting the ball into the air. Ronan watches it soar overhead, not moving. “Ha! I got one!” Adam yells.

“It was out of bounds.” Ronan says with a smug look.

Adam makes a face like a mopey child and slumps his shoulders. “Fuck. It’s too hot out here. I don’t like being sweaty.” Soon enough, his sweat would be no match for his cheap deodorant. It was already beading on his forehead.

“My towel is all the way over there. Just take off your sweatshirt. Not scared of ruining the 12 pack of Hanes, are you?” Adam wants to reply, ‘They don’t sell Hanes sweatshirts in multi-packs’, but that would reveal that he actually knew that information. He decides he was too hot to care anymore, and he didn’t want to ruin the sweatshirt by the time he got to Nino’s this afternoon. And the boys played shirtless all the time, no big deal. 

Adam’s fingers met the edge of his sweatshirt and in that moment, Ronan knew he fucked up. Not for being an asshole, but because he didn’t realize Adam didn’t have a shirt underneath his sweatshirt. And now, Adam Parrish was standing in front of him (albeit, half a tennis court away), crossing his arms to pull his sweatshirt over his head, revealing his freckled stomach and—Oh my god, Ronan felt blessed. This can’t actually be happening. How did one make a farmers tan look so good?

It wasn’t unusual for the boys to play tennis shirtless when it was hot, being an all-boys school no one really cared. But, Adam. Ronan wasn’t sure if Adam was attractive because he didn’t act like he was, or if it was because he was the only one in this school who could keep up with his douche-baggery. Either way, the sight of him shirtless and breathing heavy made Ronan want to drop dead. There was one less part he would have to imagine in his daydreams.

This was bad. Very bad.

“Okay, that’s better. I’m ready.” Adam smiles, it’s trusting and innocent and Ronan suddenly feels gross for staring and thinking that way. Adam is his friend, this is weird. Friends don’t think about each other like that. Ronan stares at the ground, filled with shame and disappointment within himself. Why does he have to ruin everything by turning it this way? What was wrong with him? He needed to leave and stop messing with Adam until he could control his thoughts. Adam deserved that.

He shakes his head as if to release the embarrassing thoughts. “Alright. Practice is over.”

Adam protests. “What? I just started getting good!”

“Good? Really?”

“Well, I hit it back a couple times, but someone keeps making me run for them. If I didn’t know any better, I would think you like it.” Adam says. It makes Ronan want to vomit, he already knows. He can’t. No one is supposed to know. 

So, he resorts to his default: being a dick. “No, you’re just… weird. And your sweat is grossing me out, so I’m leaving.”

Adam freezes in disbelief. He was used to Ronan making fun of him, but this seemed more real. “Seriously? It was just my sweatshirt. I’m that bad to look at?” It feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He crosses his arms over his stomach. 

“You said five minutes.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s been at least fifteen, so, bye.” Ronan turns around and exits the court, slamming the gate. Running away from this, that’s what Ronan always does, but it doesn’t go away. He's going to _know_ and be disgusted in Ronan. Everyone would be. He thought about how the way Kavinsky would look at him made him feel dirty. Shit. He needs a shower. 

Adam stands alone on the court, scuffing the toe of his shoe over and over again on the green court. What the hell just happened? He always fucks things up. Ronan was onto him, surely. That’s why he freaked out. 

For the first time in weeks, he does his nightly duties in silence, getting unreasonably frustrated at the key jamming in the lock. He carries the three water carriers inside and they hit his knees the whole walk in. He tucks Ronan’s racket in his locker and slams it shut. He should’ve know he was the same as everyone else, would run away once he realized Adam was really an imposter. 

Or, he knew that Adam liked him. It seemed like he didn’t mind the flirting, when it was successful, but maybe he changed his mind. He had a right to distance himself from Adam if Adam was being weird. The thought he was making him uncomfortable made Adam’s stomach turn. 

No one in charge of the universe was looking out for Adam Parrish, and it was evident now more than ever. All it does is take away. 

__

Adam lays with his head in Blue’s lap. A cup of tea sits cold on the table next to them, forgotten. After work, he felt the need to tell her what had happened. She would tell him if he was being a creep, right? 

“So we’re having fun, right. I’m teasing him a little bit. It’s normal.”

“You’re such a flirt.” Blue rolls her eyes.

“I’m not!” Adam says in defense.

“Okay, so what happened? He’s in love with you?” Blue twists a piece of Adam’s hair.

“No. Quite the opposite. I was super hot, so he was like, take your sweatshirt off.” Blue raises her eyebrows. “I know. So I did. It’s normal thought, other people do it all the time. But, as soon as I took it off, he’s like, ‘I gotta go, you’re grossing me out.’”

Blue looks personally offended. “No.”

“Yes!”

Blue mutters, “Asshole. Why do you like him again? Let’s go egg his house.”

Adam sits up. It wasn’t a terrible idea, except he could barely buy eggs to eat and he didn’t know where Ronan lived, so it would never happen. “He lives with your favorite person. President cellphone.”

“Let’s egg and TP their house.” Blue nods, decidedly. 

Adam sighs, asking what has really be on his mind the whole time, “Be honest, Blue. Am I that bad to look at? To repulse someone? Was I being creepy?”

Blue simply says. “Of course not. You’re hot,” like it’s a fact. Adam laughs at that a bit. “I’ll kick his ass.”

“He’s double your size.” Adam says.

“Do you doubt my power?” Blue says, clutching her hand to her chest.

Adam smiles and shakes his head, “No. You could take him.” Depending on how much determination she had, Blue would fight Godzilla if she needed to. 

__

For the whole week, the water carriers are brought in trios without Ronan’s help. Ronan walks right past Adam without saying anything, not even making eye contact although Adam desperately tried. In Latin, Ronan chose the most annoying kid in class as his partner over Adam, which meant Adam was worse. He couldn’t comprehend it. There was no way what Adam did was that bad. He was being exiled. Ronan had seen Adam’s true colors and he didn’t like them. That was it. He just had to move on. 

After practice, he had to fill in for an early shift at Nino’s. He usually worked late nights, but someone asked if theirs could be filled and he needed the money. This is why, on one side of the restaurant, Adam is talking to Blue. Adam looks at the door and sees the last group of people he would ever want to see right now. He groans and turns around. “No. No fucking way. They’re here. He’s been ignoring me all week, you know.”

Blue grimaces and crosses her arms. “Well, if it isn’t the three stooges.”

“What do I do?”

“Act normal. Or, spit on their food.” Blue says confidently. Both options seemed reasonable. 

On the other side of the restaurant, a pack of raven boys is having a similar conversation. “No. No fucking way. This is Adam’s section, he told me.” Ronan says.

“So?” Gansey says.

“I don’t want to see him.”

“I thought you liked him. Besides, Blue’s section is full.” Gansey says. He was surprised that Gansey didn’t suggest to leave as soon as he realized he wouldn’t be able to embarrassingly flirt with the waitress he’s obsessed with. 

“I’m leaving.” Ronan grumbles. 

Gansey eyes Ronan with as serious of a face he can manage, “You aren’t leaving, now sit.” And with that, it was decided. 

Moments later, Adam appears, customer service smile bright and totally fake. “Hi, strangers. Can I get any drinks started for you?” Adam hates it when people from school come here. They either ignore him even though they had a conversation in class the day before, or overly acknowledge him and can’t believe he’s working at a pizza place. ‘You’re so dedicated. I could _never_ split my time between work and school,’ they would say. Adam wanted to reply, ‘You’re right. You haven’t had to work for anything in your life, so you probably wouldn’t be very good at it’, but he just laughs it off and takes their order. 

Gansey smiles almost as wide. “Adam! Hello! How are you doing?” As intimidating as Ronan seemed, he was definitely the side kick compared to Gansey’s superhero status. Most people loved him, and the people who hated him were jealous. Except for Blue Sargent, she actually hated him. 

“I’m okay, you guys?” He looks at Ronan, who isn’t looking at him, and then back at Gansey, who is still smiling. 

“Couldn’t be better. I’ll take a water. Ronan?” He glances towards Ronan like a step-dad trying to make peace with his step-son. Ronan was the angry teen not willing to accept it. If Gansey could make conversation with Adam, the person who he’s spent every night should be too. This was bullshit. 

Ronan makes serious eye contact with a parmesan shaker. “Not thirsty.”

Gansey claps his hands together, “Him and Noah will take a water too.” When Adam leaves, Gansey’s smile leaves his face as he turns to glare at Ronan. “Would you quit it? He’s friends with Blue.”

Ronan perks up, “Oh, so the only reason you want to be nice to him is to impress her,” suddenly defensive over someone who he is trying to convince himself he doesn’t care about. “How do you even know they’re friends?”

“I… Instagram.”

Ronan raises his eyebrows. “Parrish has an instragram?” Ronan never had an Instagram. The idea of hashtags and selfies made him want to smash his barely used. But, if Adam had an Instagram, that might be willing to see. He likes it too much— how he causally touches him, smiles, jokes back. It’s too dangerous. 

“He’s on hers.”

Their conversation stops as soon as Adam approaches, and Gansey immediately jumps into something else to keep him there. Ronan wants to roll his eyes, he is totally doing this to impress that damn grumpy waitress. Ronan, on the other hand, would have actually relevant things to discuss with Adam... if he was choosing to talk to him at the moment. He internally curses at himself, why can’t you be normal? Adam seems fine, though. Maybe he’s better without your company. “How’s tennis, Adam?” 

“Oh, I just manage it. I don’t actually play.”

Gansey nods, “I know. Ronan’s told me. Are you enjoying it?” Ronan is re-arranging sugar packets on the table, putting them in color order. Adam saw him talking to Gansey the moment before, so he knows he is purposely ignoring him. Does he not want Gansey to know they're friends?

Adam shrugs. “It’s been different, yeah. Nice to be a part of a team, I guess. Adam reaches in to hand the back of the table their water, and accidentally brushes his hand against Ronan’s. Ronan flinches back and it makes Adam want to disappear. He mutters out a, “Sorry. Anyone want a straw?” Before running to the back.

As much as he wants to be fully pissed off for Ronan acting so strangely, he still wants to blame himself. Before this week, he was actually getting sad that tennis was nearing its end as the winter months rolled in. Now, though, he might actually be relieved to not have to deal with how Ronan ignoring him made him feel. He should've know Ronan wouldn't want anything to do with him after tennis season, anyways. Standing, he meets his reflection in the door, annoyed at the sad person staring back at him. How would he ever be able to convince people he was something better than what he was? They would be able to see right through him, see that he was made from trailer parks and shitty parents. He sighed and put his fake smile back on to greet his new table. He had some damn tips to earn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok thoughts? i had all my idea but i kind of rushed it to get it out on sunday so i hope it still reads okay!! i was sad, but the little knee touch thing was cute right? lol


	7. Olive Branch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Afterward, he went on an extensive night of drinking and instead of fighting someone like usual, he sat in his room and thought about Adam Parrish. And how maybe he was wrong—maybe Adam could see past all the bad in Ronan. He took off school for two days to convince himself to do it, and still his apology came out backwards and really not an apology at all. “You friends with that girl at your job? The hair clip one?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok............ im nervous ....... i hope you like it........

It’s the following Wednesday when Ronan is standing next to Adam’s locker. Which, as the universe would have it, is next to Ronan’s, but his own locker was merely dust filled, unused space.

Adam started walking up and he felt in trouble. He had really tried to block the Nino’s incident out of his mind, he didn’t want to take the money he saw Ronan grab out of his wallet for a tip. It ended up in the tip jar. None of it made sense. 

Ronan starts talking before Adam can choose to ignore him, his voice low and feigning casualty. It was his plan to stop this silent treatment bullshit. He kept thinking about Nino’s—Adam kept looking at him. He could tell he wanted him to say something to him but he couldn’t. Fucking coward. Adam deserved better than him, anyways.

Afterward, he went on an extensive night of drinking and instead of fighting someone like usual, he sat in his room and thought about Adam Parrish. And how maybe he was wrong—maybe Adam _could_ see past all the bad in Ronan. He took off school for two days to convince himself to do it, and still his apology came out backwards and really not an apology at all. “You friends with that girl at your job? The hair clip one?” 

Asking about Blue? Really? Adam wants to scream. Of course. He doesn’t look up, grabbing the pile of books for his next class. “Yeah. Why?”

Ronan turns so his back is against a locker, staring ahead at the clock. Two minutes left of passing period. He could make it two minutes. “Just… was asking.”

Adam had quite literally nothing to lose, so he decides to be petty. It had been bothering him, after all. “I didn’t know you saw me. You’ve been ignoring me for like, a week and a half now.” 

Ronan can’t explain it, Adam wouldn’t get it. How do you say, ‘I like you so much that it scares me because you are my friend and I’m not supposed to do that’ eloquently? He can’t find a way, so he decides to be an asshole. “Is that on your data sheet?” He anticipates Adam firing back with his usual smart ass reply but he doesn’t. He really isn’t prepared to have Adam looking at him like that—mostly sad instead of mad.

“It’s true, regardless. Did I do something wrong?” This was the question Adam was really afraid of asking. He didn’t know if it would be worse for him to have done something or not. To be rejected for a mistake, or for just being himself.

“I’m letting you do your job. You don’t need my help.” Ronan says as if this was really about the water containers.

Adam’s voice gets angrier. “I never asked for your help.” He pauses. He tries his next theory. “Are you scared of your friends knowing you know me?”

“Do you really think I care anything about what a single person in this school thinks?”

“I do. I say I don’t but I do.” Adam doesn’t want to dwell on that and give Ronan the power of this fact, so he moves on. “The girl. You think she’s hot or something? Because she doesn’t like private school boys.” Adam can’t believe not only did Gansey want to date Blue, but now Ronan. He supposed he couldn’t blame them, but it infuriated him nonetheless. 

Ronan scoffs, completely forgetting his shitty excuse to get himself into this conversation. “What girl?”

“At the restaurant. My friend.”

Ronan’s face twists. “What? No. No way. I mean—she’s… cute. Just not really… Gansey wanted me to ask you about her.”

It sounded like a coverup. Blue already knew Gansey liked her and she was beyond not interested. “Oh. Yeah. That’s not her type. I dated her. So.”

“Seriously?” Ronan looks shocked and Adam suddenly wants to punch him. It was hard enough to convince himself he deserved the things he’s received, let alone to have someone else think he shouldn’t have had them either. 

“I know it’s hard to believe someone would date me because you think I’m ugly, but it’s true.” 

Adam thinks Ronan doesn’t like him. What the hell? Ronan was sure he knew. The bell rings, and Ronan expects Adam to dash away. He bets he never has been late before. Neither of them move. 

“You think I think you’re ugly.” Ronan says.

The hallway is empty and Adam is feeling vulnerable. “You said I looked disgusting! So, yeah. I do.”

Shit. There was no denying Ronan said that. His body slumps against the locker, the words coming out exhausted, like he thinks there’s no use in saying them because Adam wouldn’t believe them anyways. His hand rubs over his eyebrows. “I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t know what I was thinking. Sometimes I get scared of myself and I just run.” It seemed like the only option. All Ronan did was hurt people, he was wired that way. It wasn’t fair.

Ronan half expects Adam to laugh, who is scared of themselves? Instead, though, his voice comes out soft. “What are you afraid of?”

All the dreams filled with blood and metal and pain—there was never any choice behind the matter. Once he fell asleep, it was like his brain created a picture of who he really was. _He_ would be the one holding the tire-iron above his dad, _He_ be crashing his car with Gansey and Noah in it. _He_ would be pushing Adam away. So, there was only the truth. “That I’ll hurt someone I care about. I feel like I was made that way and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Adam pauses, opening his mouth and then closing it. His own thoughts of him morphing into his father enter his mind. “Me too. I’m afraid of that too.” They both stare ahead, not at each other. Two sides of the same coin. He kind of wants to cry.

Ronan turns to him, looking like he hasn’t slept in a week. “Can we talk later? When you aren’t going to be late for Statistics?”

“I’m already late.” Adam pauses, realizing something. “You know my schedule?”

“No comment. I’ll see you later.” Ronan peels himself off the locker and walks away, incidentally in the opposite direction of where his class actually is.

__

It’s lunch when Ronan taps his shoulder. “The study hall room is empty.” 

Adam nods and follows him there. He hates how serious this feels now and wishes Ronan would’ve never been a dumbass in the first place so he could get back to his aimless flirting. Maybe it made Ronan uncomfortable, though.

When they walk in, Adam falls down on the couch and props his feet up on the table. Ronan “Well. You’ve got me cornered. What do you have to say?” As much of him understands what Ronan was saying earlier, he is still a little mad for him ignoring him this whole time instead of just telling the truth.

“I don’t think you’re ugly. Like, at all. I’m not surprised someone would date you, I just didn’t know she would be your type.” 

“This is what we’re talking about? I don’t have ‘a type’.” Adam can’t believe the whole reason he wanted to bring him here is to tell him this. Truthfully, Blue _was_ his type. A spit fire, strong-willed and spunky person. He thinks she initially won him over when she challenged him to an arm wrestle. 

“Apparently it’s angry looking cabbage patch dolls.” Ronan replies. He really didn’t see what Gansey saw in her, she was constantly pissed off and never smiled. Then he learns Adam liked her too. What was this chick eating for breakfast?

“You’re awful angry looking yourself, Lynch.” Adam says, not realizing how revealing it was until it came out of his mouth. Fuck it, if Ronan couldn’t tell how Adam felt already, he was an idiot. He had been hinting at this forever. However, judging from Ronan’s confused face, he had no idea and he didn’t look very happy about it. “You really didn’t know?”

“Know what?” Ronan looks annoyed and Adam wonders if this was what it was all about. He clearly doesn’t like the attention from him. What if Adam was making Ronan more angry at himself? 

“I shouldn’t have been flirting with you. Not the sweatshirt thing. I was truly overheating, but other times. I haven’t been thinking and I’ve been acting stupid.” Better to just explain it all, Adam decides. He did feel bad if it was making Ronan uncomfortable.

Ronan looks even more confused. “Excuse me?”

Adam lifts his hands up, trying to protect himself from Ronan’s disappointment. “But I’ll stop. I’m sorry if I’ve been making things harder for you.”

“You’ve been flirting with me.” Ronan deadpans. He’s almost 1000% sure this is a dream, because he knows no world in which Adam Parrish would say he’s been flirting with him and be _apologizing_ for it.

“Attempting to.” Adam thinks it might be giving himself too much credit to say he was a successful flirt, so the word attempting seems about right. 

“I don't mind it. I thought you were just touchy and I was over thinking it. I thought I was making you uncomfortable.” Ronan says, and it kind of all makes sense.

“Oh. No. I mean, you ignoring me this whole time as been shitty, but before that, no.”

Ronan nods, still processing everything. “Glad that’s cleared up then.” 

He watches Adam get up from the couch and walk away, not seeming to give a care about what he just admitted. Adam has been flirting with Ronan. Is it a friendly thing? Can there be friendly flirting? No, right? Adam likes guys. Adam likes Ronan. Maybe. Before he stormed off the tennis court. Damnit. There’s no fucking way Ronan is going to class after this.

__ 

A few days later, everything is going wrong for Adam. He really should be used to this, hungry dogs trying to chase him on his bike, a different pack of wolves waiting to bite him in the halls of Aglionby. Ronan hadn’t done much with the information that Adam liked him. He moved to sit next to him in Latin again, but he only came to school on Friday after that Wednsday, so he wasn’t sure if he meant to do it or not. He couldn’t believe that Ronan could come to school two days a week and would probably still have a better chance of getting into an Ivy than Adam.

He wasn’t sure what he expected, Ronan to call him a mean name or pick him up in his arms and twirl him around. Admittedly, neither of them seemed quite like Ronan things to do. Still, though, he expected _something_ to change.

His last hour teacher gives the whole, “The bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do,” spiel even though they were late cleaning up because he was unprepared for the lesson. This is why Adam has to practically run to the locker room to still be a few minutes late for practice. Mind you, he is supposed to be there at least ten minutes before the other boys roll in, so this is not ideal.

When he peaks his head inside the coach’s office, the water carriers are missing. Shit. He must’ve left them outside last night. He did that before, but it was on a day he was early. They still needed to be filled, so he runs out the door and around the school to the courts, out of breath before he sees Ronan sitting on the bench with the three bright orange carriers lined up next to him. The sky is dark and filled with clouds, and the orange vibrates against it. 

“Wow. That eager to see me, Parrish?”

Adam is frustrated, Ronan couldn’t just tell him he was doing this? He walks to Ronan, mimicking an angry Lara Jean. “What are you doing? I thought I lost them! And I’m already late.”

“This is my olive branch.”

Adam crosses his arms. “That doesn’t even really make sense. We aren’t at war.”

“Okay. My apology, then.” The wind blows a whistling sound through the trees, a peaceful sound compared to the opposite side of the school, where expensive engines are being revved and car horns being honked at pedestrians. Ah, after school traffic. 

“Well. Just tell me next time. Thanks for getting them, I guess. I have to go get the rest of my stuff now. I’ll be back.” So that was Ronan’s move, then. Simple, but Adam understood.

The practice is called short once the players start feeling raindrops and a thunderous roar shakes the ground. He thought maybe Ronan would just make Adam carry it all himself in the rain, but he grabbed half the stuff and walked ahead of him inside. It didn’t start bad, but once they made it inside, more thunder clapped and it began pouring heavy rain. Shit. Adam had work after practice. He was going to show up way past drenched, or not even alive at all, probably from being electrocuted or slipping in front of a car. 

Adam stared out the glass door, trying to think of a game plan. 

“I’ll give you a ride.” It was like Ronan could read his mind.

Not, ‘Do you want it?’ or ‘You have no choice.” But, I will give you a ride. You have the choice, but in a way it’s already happening. Besides, it was just illogical to not accept the offer. He would be late to work otherwise. And he was so tired of fighting.

“Okay.”

Ronan and Adam stare out the doors, the sky black, only seeing the rain bounce of the pavement in sheets. They look at Ronan’s car, and then at the bike rack, which is on the other side of the parking lot. He would get soaked trying to grab it. “I’ll just… pick you up tomorrow.” Ronan offered. 

“No.” 

Ronan thinks for a moment. “We’ll get in my car, drive to the rack, and you can put it in.”

That seems okay, Adam guesses. “Fine.”

Ronan ends up slinging both their backpacks over his shoulder and they run to the car, not saying anything as they drive to the other side of the lot. Of course, Adam’s is the only bike there. 

He opens the door and dashes to it. Adam’s fingers fumble on the cold, metal lock, already beyond soaked by the time he has it unlocked. He grips the rubber handle bars and walks it to Ronan’s car. There’s no more wet he can possibly get besides being underwater, so there’s no use for speed. He taps on Ronan’s window, hair dark and dripping down his face. Ronan rolls it down an inch and eyes Adam.

“You just go. I’m going to ruin your car. My bike has reflectors. I’ll be fine.” Adam feels like he practically has to shout over the storm.

“Parrish, get your ass in the car.”

He can see the specks of rain angling into Ronan’s car already. He wants to yell at him to close it and just leave. “Ronan.”

“Adam. Let’s go. You’re making me late to my after school Netflix routine.”

Adam purses his lips. He surrenders. “Is the trunk unlocked?” He hears a beep and walks around to put it in, pausing before he walks around to the passenger side door and gets in. His clothes cling to his thin frame, his shoes tracking mud onto the bottom of the car. “Sorry.”

“Quit it. You think you can control the universe? You didn’t make it rain.”

“I can control not getting into your car.” Adam replies stubbornly.

“You only took one because it was raining, though. Any other day you say no. You’re like, fucking afraid to be alone with me.” 

Adam shakes his head. “You’re so stupid.”

“How? That’s what you do!” Ronan doesn’t get how Adam can say he is flirting with him, yet rejects any request for them to spend time together. 

“No, I don’t want rides because I don’t like pity handouts. A bike is a perfectly capable and more environmentally conscious option. Other than that, I am more than willing to come up with excuses to be alone with you. I don’t know how many times I can spell it out for you, you just have to believe it.”

Ronan supposes Adam is right, it really did just come down to him not seeing how this could be possible. He could trust Adam. Adam trusted him enough to tell him. That should be enough. “Guess I’ll start brainstorming ideas for that, then. Excuses to be alone.”

“Great.” 

The rest of the drive is silent, except for Ronan’s impossibly loud music, that is. The rain slows, and Adam has to stop himself from thinking he probably could’ve biked after all. When they get to Adam’s work, Ronan opens his window as Adam rounds his car, wheeling his bike. “Hey. Text me if it starts raining again.”

“I don’t have your number.”

Ronan rattles a series of numbers and Adam repeats them in his head. “Okay. Bye.”

__ 

Adam rides his bike home, his wet clothes weighing down his backpack the whole way. He drapes them over random objects in his room in hopes they’ll dry before tomorrow. Technically, Ronan said only to text him if it started raining again, and it wasn’t raining. But, the napkin he scribbled on as soon as he walked in is stuffed in his pants pocket. He smooths the brown paper out on his desk and types the number into his phone, fingers sending a message before his brain can tell him to stop. “Hey, this is Adam. The rain stopped. I’m home. Thanks for the ride.” 

Moments later, the number pops up on the screen with a text, “no problem.”

There was really no follow-up to ‘no problem’, so he begins his homework until he hears another buzz. “What are you doing rn?” the text reads.

Studying, Adam thinks. He’s so boring. Maybe he should type, ‘Just got out of the shower.’ No, definitely not that. He decides on, “Oh, just desperately trying to dry out my uniform before tomorrow.”

The reply pops up almost immediately. “Good luck.”

They text until Adam gets in bed and falls asleep. He doesn’t get much studying done after all. It’s all within safe, friendly territories, but Adam can’t help but wonder if Ronan is also in his bed thinking about Adam. It’s weirdly intimate. It makes him stay up entirely too late, more so than normal, and he’s starting to think Ronan just doesn’t sleep. It would explain the perpetual bad mood.

In the morning, Ronan is standing by Adam’s locker, holding a contraband travel coffee mug and tie not even trying to be remotely knotted correctly.

Adam can’t help but laugh at the sight. He looks like a father of newborn twins who had to stay up all night changing diapers, except he’s just a high school teenager instead. “Mornin’ sunshine.” Adam says in his country accented customer service voice.

“Asshole.”

“What did I do?”

“Kept me up by texting me all night.” 

Adam smirks. “Won’t happen again, sir.” It finally feels mostly right again. This is alright, he thinks. We can joke with each other. That’s what we do.

“It can, actually. Go right ahead.” Ronan says.

Adam continues the country accent bit, “I’ll make sure you get a nice early bedtime tonight, champ.” Adam pats his arm and Ronan prays he isn’t turning red.

Still, though, he has a better comeback. “How’s that? You coming over to make that happen or something?”

Adam can’t stop himself before his eyebrows shoot-up and his ears turn bright red. He dishes it so well but can’t seem to take it. Adam: 0, Ronan: 1. “Shut up. I have class.”

__

It takes some time to regain their old demeanor towards each other, but it feels good to be doing it at all. It feels clearer his time, he’s admitted some secrets, and Ronan’s fine with them. That’s as far as he is willing to jump to conclusions with him. He doesn’t want to mess this up again. Between not-so-casual casual texting and awkward flirting, things seem to be coming back to where they were before.

Ronan’s fingers wrap around the holes in the fence. “Can you get me my sweatband? In my bad. It should be in the front pocket.”

Adam is intently filling doodled squares on his clipboard. “Not my job.”

“Come on.” Ronan begs. Adam rolls his eyes and grabs for Ronan’s bag. He pulls out a thin, stretchy band.

“What is this?”

“It’s a headband. You really have never spoken to a girl, have you, Parrish?”

Adam balls it in his hand. “I think I’m missing something. You don’t have hair.”

It’s Ronan’s turn to roll his eyes. “It’s an old bag. I used to have hair.”

Adam’s face lights up. “Oh, I need to see a picture of that.” He slides the headband on his own head, pushing his brown hair up. “How do I look? My hair is kind of long right now.” He should look stupid, a headband and private school uniform, but he someone managed to look unbelievably hot.

“Terrible.”

Adam smiles. “Okay, see, I know how to read you. And if it actually looks terrible, you would’ve said, ‘great’ in a sarcastic tone, so you saying the opposite means it actually looks good.”

Ronan crosses his arms. “It doesn’t look good.”

“You just did it again.” Adam replies smugly. He’s like a little kid who just convinced his parents to get him a puppy. Ronan opens his mouth to reply but nothing good comes out.

“Don’t act like you know my speech patterns. Did you find the sweatband or have you been too busy searching though my shit?”

“Yeah, I’m looking for some cash, actually.”

“Funny.” Ronan says. 

“I don’t see it.” Adam replies. Ronan grumbles and walks around the fence to search his bag himself. 

He unzips the compartments until he finds it and then mumbles, “Back pocket.”

__ 

Adam stretches his fingers and squints his eyes, focusing on his target. He pulls back, the air stilling, and snap! A headband goes flying to hit Ronan in the chest. 

“What the fuck?” Ronan gasps, looking confused. Adam pops around the corner of the hall with a shit-eating grin. His hands come to wrap around the top of Ronan’s open locker. 

“I accidentally stuck in in my pocket yesterday.”

Ronan looks at Adam. “Oh, so you were stealing my shit?” 

Adam shoves him playfully and smiles again. “Shut up. You’re bald.”

“You’re in a good mood today.”

Adam looks offended, “I’m normal. You’re just always in a bad mood.”

Ronan can’t believe Adam really thinks he walks around like roses and sunshine all day. “You are _not_ always in a good mood, Parrish.” He stops himself before he can say something more offensive. “I have something to show you.” Ronan holds out his phone with a picture of freshman year Ronan Lynch, completed with curly brown hair and a brilliant white smile. It was, real, too. He was happy then. 

Adam’s face breaks out in a huge grin and he immediately grabs the phone. “Stop. Oh my god. That’s you?”

Ronan scratches the back of his head. “In the flesh.”

Adam clutches the phone to his chest, protecting it. “I need this picture.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“But you look so cute and innocent. _This_ Ronan Lynch would never tell me to fuck off. _This_ Ronan Lynch probably bakes cookies. Wait, is that Gansey?” Ronan nods. “Oh, this is good. I’ve looked the same for the past ten years. How is that fair?”

“I bet you haven’t.” Ronan now desperately wanted to see a picture of younger Adam. How would he look different? He knows how he has changed himself, become rough around the edges and a much more unpleasant person in general. He also knew he had become stronger, in a way. When thinking about it the other way, he couldn’t really imagine a weak Adam Parrish, even if it was ten years ago. 

“You’d be surprised.”

“Show me one and I’ll be the judge of that. Can I have my phone back now?”

Adam holds out the phone to hand it back to Ronan and walks to class. “Fine. I’ll see you at practice.”

Ronan is still thinking about how a younger Adam Parrish would be when he gets it back. Would he be just as feisty or more kind? He started thinking about if they were to meet at that age, what would’ve happened. Ronan hadn’t really discovered himself back then, so he assumed nothing would’ve come from it, but he couldn’t help but wonder if a softer version of both of them might’ve be easier.

He opens his phone back up to see that Adam has texted himself the picture. God damnit, Adam. He quickly texts him, “You fucker,” and Adam responds with a winky face. He catches himself smiling before he realizes how dumb he probably looks. He’s not sure he really cares, though. Adam Parrish just texted him a fucking winky face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things got better, right?!?!???? do you forgive me?!???? i really wasn't planning on adding the darker pynch themes in here but they just kind of came out. their moodiness is what makes them them ya know. tell me all your thoughts please, i think i got one more chapter left hhehehehe


	8. Pep Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam reminds himself to let this happen and not fuck it up, so he doesn’t fight when he holds the door open for him when they are walking out of school, or when Ronan says he’ll give him a ride, or when he pulls out his wallet and tells Adam he wants to pay for him. His stubborn insides are ashamed for succumbing to this pressure so easily, but Ronan looking eager and nervous and talking in a low voice makes it easy to bend his rules.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaaah i hope u like it

The winter weather was finally settling in as the last week of practices came around the corner. Adam couldn’t believe how much time he’d spent sitting on the sidelines of the royal blue courts, hand bumped under his chin, bored. It took all his might not to calculate how much money he would’ve made if he was working instead. 

Despite this, he couldn’t bring himself to regret joining the team. He might even venture to say he was glad he joined, because of certain privileges or people. For starters, the recognition made him feel good. Before, he drifted through the day with no purpose other than getting through it with his best effort so he could get out of this place once high school was said and done. Now, there’s an open desk in the middle of his teammates for Adam to sit in in Geography. Invitations are made for Adam to come over with the rest of the boys, even if he declines them every time. He’s in group chats. It was such a weird, stupid way of feeling included, but it still felt good. 

And then there was Ronan, who Adam thinks might be the best surprise out of this whole ordeal. He never assumed Ronan was one to be obsessed with his phone, but he evidently made messaging Adam a top priority. It never was cheesy “good mornings” but more like “look at this picture of my bird” (apparently Ronan owned a bird) or “Gansey is being so fucking annoying right now, come save me.” Either way, Adam couldn’t help but get excited when his name popped up on his screen.

This morning, it was a text that said, “Last game today… you finally won’t have me bothering you every day.” As much of a joke as it was, it made Adam frown at his phone. Ronan already had a weird time of ignoring Adam, what if he easily slipped into that again once the season was over? The season is over. All these people that might now be considered friends could easily turn a cold shoulder when they don’t have to be nice anymore. It scared him. This might have all been a waste of time, depending on what his college applications would say. That’s why he started this whole mess, right? 

Adam stared at the message, pondering if he should reply something genuine about missing him, but it seemed too serious, so he settled on, “Thank god.”

__

For the very last time, it’s a home game. Fingers smooth out the white sweat-wicking material of their uniforms and pull matching socks up to the proper height. Below the right shoulder, the school’s logo is stitched in red and blue; it screamed private school. Ronan laced up his sneakers with his foot on a bench, somehow, another shoe Adam had never seen before. He thought Ronan should look out of place in the uniform, it being so different from his typical style, but it somehow looked so right. Effortlessly powerful in a way that Ronan truly was.

Every member of the team is buzzing around in the locker room, freshman thankful they got through it and seniors silently wishing they could do it all again even if they wouldn’t admit it. Both Adam and Ronan were surprised they even made it to senior year, though for entirely different reasons. Ronan stands next to Adam, tweaking with his sweatband on his wrist, a court-appropriate substitute for his typical leather bands. “Last game,” he says, looking over to Adam for his reaction. Adam nods in reply. “Ever.” Ronan reiterates. It sounds similar to someone trying to remind their friends it was their birthday when they forgot. He wasn’t sure what Adam would do with this information, maybe he really was glad to be done with it all. Ronan wasn’t sure he was. He thought about joining a college team, but that would mean going to college, so it wasn’t really an option in the end. He had no clue what the next six months would lead him into and it scared him shitless.

“Have you been counting down the days?” Adam asks. Ronan shrugs. He wasn’t, really. He liked the long, warm summer days leading up to the season and how being on this team meant not being alone. He liked how somehow Adam ended up here too. Tennis brought good things. Mentally, he sends a thank-you to the sky for his rich grandmother making him join the country club kids team even when he begged her not to. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to be done.” He says with a surprising amount of truth. Ronan didn’t lie, but he also wasn’t always honest with his thoughts. Adam just nods again, thinking he might understand exactly what he means. He had the feeling that all the nice things this semester brought might be taken away as soon as its over. There would be no reason for the guys to be nice to him anymore, he was back to being meaningless after today. 

Despite the melancholy feeling in the air, the team is on fire during their games. Hit after hit is successful and Adam decides there is something special about “last games”, everyone seems to leave it all on the court, not knowing when they’d have the chance again. He walks over to Ronan’s match, who is playing on the opposite side of where he’s sitting. Even after admitting feelings for him, not much had happened, but wherever they were still felt nice. Ronan notices Adam standing and smiles, even though Adam hasn’t missed a match of his the whole season. He easily wins, but is still out of breath by the time he exits the court, door swinging behind him. It was fitting that his last game ever would be an easy victory. 

Adam joins him by his side as they walk to sit. “Good game.” Adam chirps. Ronan mutters a breathless ‘thanks’ and searches for the nearest water bottle. They both sit, Adam pulled together tight and Ronan spread out languid and wide. He wipes his face with the back of his hand and Adam’s route for conversation disappears as he clears his throat. Ronan post tennis match made Adam lose his shit so easily. He wants to grab his face and kiss him. He thinks he probably would if they weren’t in public. Damnit, private school moms. 

“What are you looking at?” Ronan asks and Adam straightens up, yanking at his shirt sleeve for a distraction.

He comes up with a half-truth. “Just thinking about the season. It’s done. I don’t know what’s going to happen next.”

“Happen next with what? We go through next semester and then graduate. That’s it.” Ronan’s words come out sounding meaner than he wanted them to. Insecure in the future was the exact same way he was feeling right now, but if he could explain it simply, it might make it easier to deal with. 

Adam tries again. “I know that. But, like, with us. What’s going to happen after this? We don’t really hang out besides practice.” Surely, if Adam could spare enough time to join the tennis team, he could carve out some time for Ronan as well. He would make sure of it.

“Do you want to?” Ronan looks at Adam, still sweaty, but his look of competitive cockiness is replaced with one more vulnerable. He knew he wanted there to be an ‘us’ to consider after this season, but he was afraid asking would result in an answer he didn’t want, so he kept it to himself until now.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Yeah.” Adam stutters over his words, suddenly feeling unconfident in his assumption there would be anything after this. It was worth a shot. “I do want to.”

Ronan looks out at the courts, pretending to be interested in the games happening while processing what Adam said. He chews on his lip, waiting way too long for Adam’s taste, but when he turns back, he’s got a small smile and he’s squinting one eye due to the sun. “I think he can arrange that.” Adam lets out a breath in relief. 

“Yeah?”

“Sure. What are you doing after this?” Ronan asks, pretending to have an ounce of game. 

Adam scratches the back of his head, hating the way his life plays out. “Homework.”

Ronan replaces his real smile with his sneaky, fake one. Adam would be the one to say he wanted to continue this relationship, but put homework ahead of it. “Yeah, not anymore.”

“It’s important, actually.” Adam says seriously.

“You have all weekend.” 

“I work.” 

Ronan turns his body to Adam and puts his hands out as if he’s about to pitch a deal on a new house. His face reads as annoyed. “Adam. You can’t say you want to hang out and then reject every offer I make. Like you’ve been doing this whole fucking year.”

Adam shakes his head and then mentally tries to work out what other places he could fit his homework in. Fuck it. He’d do it on his break or something. “Okay. Sorry. You’re right.” Ronan relaxes and Adam continues. “Where are we going then, sir?”

Ronan smiles again, which has to be a record for him. 

__

Adam reminds himself to let this happen and not fuck it up, so he doesn’t fight when he holds the door open for him when they are walking out of school, or when Ronan says he’ll give him a ride, or when he pulls out his wallet and tells Adam he wants to pay for him. His stubborn insides are ashamed for succumbing to this pressure so easily, but Ronan looking eager and nervous and talking in a low voice makes it easy to bend his rules. 

Surprisingly, Ronan suggested snow cones. Adam didn’t have any other ideas, so that is what they did. They stood outside the small shack on the side of some road Adam had never been down. It was tiny and adorned with chipped white paint, but the outside was lit with hanging lights and a walkway of pebbles lead them to the front. To the side was a chalkboard with way too many flavor combinations, Adam read the list several times and still was clueless. 

“What are you getting?” 

“Razmatazz.” Ronan says with a serious face.

“I don’t know what I should get. I’ve never had one before.”

Ronan looks offended. His voice raises and he turns to Adam with his arms crossed. “You’ve never had a snow cone before? What have you been doing with your life, Parrish? Definitely get a combo.” He rattles a few off before Adam picks a random one in the middle of the lineup. 

“I can really pay for mine, you know.” Adam reminds him, but Ronan shakes him off. He wants to say, ‘I’ll pay for the next date, then.’ But the words catch on his tongue before they can escape. They seem a bit too bold, and then too late for it anyway.

He watches inside the shack as a girl molds the shaved ice into a giant ball onto a tiny cup, he’s not sure how it stays on top. She then pours several rainbow covered liquid syrups over top, Adam is mesmerized. She yells out Adam’s order and he grabs the sticky Styrofoam cup with wide eyes. “Oh my god. This looks amazing.”

“You aren’t even ready.” Ronan picks up spoons and napkins for them both. “Alright, there’s this place I like to go here but it’s kind of a walk.”

“Okay.” Adam follows Ronan down a dirt path, trying to not trip on the branches in the dark. He regretted leaving his jacket in the car as he shivered. “Fuck. I’m cold.” The snow cone freezing in his hand and lips didn’t help either.

Ronan stops. “I’m stupid. We can turn around.”

“No. It’s delicious. I’m glad we went here. Keep walking. It’s just windy.” Adam rattles off several excuses to get that disappointed look off Ronan’s face.

They walk for a few more minutes until they reach a spot in a children’s park. It didn’t seem like a very Ronan Lynch place to be, but luckily all the kids were gone and they were walking past the swing and slides. Eventually, they made it to a bench that looked upon a small pond. They were alone, so you could hear the crickets vibrate through the air. “Here.”

“This is the spot?” Adam looked around, the setting sun making the park looked shadowy instead of its usual vibrant colors. He wondered how many corners of Henrietta he had never seen, how many sacred spots people had that he had no idea about. When he thought about it, he wasn’t sure he had any special spots in Henrietta. He silently vowed to find some in college.

“This is the spot.”

“It’s peaceful. I like it.” 

“My mom used to take me when I was a kid.” The thought of a small, carefree Ronan Lynch running around here made Adam smile. He wondered if he was just as much of a spit-fire back then as he was now, pushing kids off swings and bravely climbing trees. Now he wanted to see baby pictures, too.

“You take all your tennis managers here?” Adam teases.

Ronan laughs and scoots closer into Adam for warmth. “No. Just you.” 

They sit for a bit, enjoying the quiet aside from the occasional slurp of the snow cone. “Can I tell you something?” Adam asks. Ronan nods, so Adam continues talking. “My list of people that make this town tolerable is very short, but you are one of those people, Ronan.”

Ronan leans back on the bench, looking in front of him. He always looked away when Adam admitted something. “You can’t say my name like that, Jesus.”

Adam’s eyebrows knit together. “You don’t like it?”

He looks back at Adam, nodding even before he speaks. “I do. Too much. I like it a lot.” 

Adam doesn’t understand how just saying his name is something Ronan is into, but he’s willing to tack it onto the end of every sentence if he keeps looking at him like that. “Good to know. You want to try some of mine?” He scoops some of his snow cone into his spoon and feeds it to Ronan. It’s way too cheesy for both of their tastes, but they let it happen anyways. No one is here to make fun of them besides themselves.

After they’re done eating, they make their way back to Ronan’s car. Incidentally, both out of breath because Ronan challenged him to a race. Adam pants with his hands on his knees. “That is not fair! You pushed me.”

“It was a light shove. Sorry I’m faster than you, Parrish. I’m the one who’s been working out this whole semester. You’ve been a bench-warmer.”

“That’s my job!” Adam debates as they both get into the car. He almost doesn’t want to, afraid that whatever carefree energy the outdoors is giving them will be depleted as soon as they go somewhere else. 

Ronan blasts the heat and Adam holds his hands out in front of the vents, not caring how dumb he might look.

After his fingers warm up enough, he settles them in his lap and turns to Ronan. “Did you realize you liked me when I told you how I felt about you? After the Nino’s thing?” This fact still bothered Adam, he couldn’t piece the timeline between Ronan annoying him in the beginning of the season, then not, then acting annoyed by Adam, then not. It was all confusing.

Ronan made an equally confused face. “As in three weeks ago?” He laughs loudly. “No.”

Adam’s not sure why he’s laughing, does he not even like him now? Shit. That couldn’t be true. “When then? You do… like me, right?”

“Uh, yeah. Like, the fucking beginning of August, Parrish.” Ronan replies. Adam sits back in his seat, trying to add this information to his theory. It didn’t fit.

“August. I wasn’t even on the team yet. That isn’t right.” There is no way that Ronan liked Adam before he joined the team. It barely seemed plausible that he liked him now, after months of trying to flirt with him to achieve that goal. And he had achieved it before he started to try? No way in hell. 

Ronan looks at Adam softly. “And imagine my surprise when the witty, attractive, Adam Parrish from my Latin class joins tennis.” He speaks like he’s revealing the final clue in a mystery movie. 

“I don’t believe you. That was months ago.”

Ronan shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was, thinking you were smart. Why do you think I was bothering you? Just to be annoying?” Adam racks his brain for clues, but he can only recall Ronan snarling and bothering him and making fun of him for being a water boy.

“Yes!” Adam wants to tell Ronan he’s an awful flirt, because how the fuck was he supposed to know he liked him by annoyed glances in the hall? But he doesn’t want to ruin the moment, so he keeps that to himself.

“Dude, the first time I saw you like two years ago I thought you were cute. And then you start arguing with our teachers. Phew. You really knew how to win me over.” Ronan dramatically swoons with his hand on his forehead.

“Wow.”

“What?” Ronan’s worried he went a step to far. Admitting you liked someone before you even knew them is kind of weird. It messes with all the intentions you thought a person had.

Adam shrugs, taking this information in. “Nothing. We just could’ve saved a lot of time here.”

“I’m willing to make up for it.” Ronan suggests. Adam was definitely on board for making up for lost time, two years of lost time, apparently. 

__

Neither of them quite know what to say, so Ronan turns up his music and Adam tells him what streets to turn on to make it to St. Agnes, not realizing that Ronan would already know where it’s at.

“You can stop here.” Adam says, and Ronan eyes him skeptically.

“This is my church. You live here?”

No one else knew Adam stayed up there, except for the person he paid his rent to. It was better than where he was, a hideaway tucked away in the middle of Henrietta. “Up top.”

“By yourself?”

It did get lonely, but it was his own to exist in, so he wouldn’t trade it for anything. “Yeah.”

“You should come over sometime. To me and Gansey’s and Noah’s.” Ronan offered. Adam could not imagine what kind of shit show that house was, or how any of their parents agreed to it. He imagined pizza boxes, sports equipment, and abandoned homework thrown around the house.

They were parked near the stairs Adam would take to climb to his apartment, but he wasn’t ready to go inside yet. He was stalling, opening and closing the air vents over and over again, unsure how to make a move. He unbuckled his seatbelt but still didn’t reach for the car door handle.

“You could come over now.” Ronan suggests, sensing that Adam wasn’t as ready to dive into his homework as he was earlier.

“No, it’s okay. I have work early.” Adam wishes he was as carefree as all the people around him seemed. It was unfair his responsibilities stopped him from having the late night teenage romance he deserved.

Ronan looks at the steering wheel, knowing he had already won a couple too many battles today, and he didn’t think it would happen again.

Coach Bishop’s pep talks echoed in Adam’s mind. They all said mostly the same thing, replace angrier words if they fucked up, or positive words if he was proud of them. It would be something about how the results would show themselves if you put in the effort. You had to prove you cared by not only how you played during a game, but how you practiced. The worst that could happen is you lose a match, so why not just do all you can do? If it’s not good enough, you try harder the next time.

He would always end with something along the lines of: If you want it bad enough, you just have to go for it and not think about what will happen after. If you win, great. If you lose, try something else.

The words struck inspiration to Adam sitting in the passenger seat of Ronan’s car. If you want it, go for it.

“Ronan?” Adam says softy. Ronan looks up. “If I attempt to kiss you right now, do you promise not to run your car into a building?”

“What?” Ronan asks, looking confused as ever.

“Your story. About the date. Running into her garage.” Adam explains. This already wasn’t going as smoothly as he thought it might.

Ronan rolls his eyes. “Oh, Jesus.” 

Adam leans in, knowing this might be the only chance he has for a while, not forgetting the purpose of his mission. “Think you can avoid doing that again?”

Ronan nods, nervous. “Probably so, yeah.” He whispers.

Adam tilts his head to the side and quirks his eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” Ronan’s voice is low and his heart rate is increasingly picking up pace as a reaction to Adam’s face being this close to his. This couldn’t be real life, but it was. Focus Ronan. Stop thinking, he told himself. 

Adam leans in, his own heart beating too quickly for comfort. He ignores the tiny voice in his head telling him to stop and listens to the much louder ones saying, “Go go go.” His lips press to Ronan’s and he tries to not wonder if they are still blue from the snow cone or not. They’re surprisingly soft as he kisses Adam back, relaxing into it. Ronan’s hand instinctively rises to Adam’s cheek and he thanks God for allowing him to kiss Adam Parrish in his church’s parking lot. It was a miracle, really. His fingertips barely touch Adam’s face, and it gives him goosebumps.

Adam pulls away, not wanting to make himself too easy of a date. Still close to Ronan’s face, he whispers. “See you at school tomorrow,” before hopping out of the car and going up the stairs.

__

Blue takes her break ten minutes early to join Adam’s on his. It’s a secret she’s done for several months that shes still surprised she hasn’t been caught for. Earlier today, Adam told Blue he had a surprise for her later, and even after threatening him for hours, Adam hadn’t budged. Blue was practically begging by their break, which Blue didn’t do.

Adam smiled, knowing she was about to lose her mind. “Okay, are you ready?” He pauses. “I kissed him.”

Blue stood up from her spot at the table, hands bracing themselves where she just sat. “No you didn’t. Where? When?”

“Thursday. In his car.” Adam replies nonchalantly, as if he didn’t go back to his apartment and think about it for hours afterwards.

“You’re just telling me now?” 

“It’s Friday!” Adam says, defending his choice to keep it to himself for a bit. He couldn’t keep it a secret for long, he knew Blue would kill him if she found out later he hadn’t told her. He wondered if Ronan had told anyone. What would his friends think?

“Well. What did he do? Are you two like, dating now?” Blue says like an overprotective mom. Adam didn’t think it was romantic jealousy, just friendship jealous. She didn’t want to share Adam, his schedule was already impossibly tight.

“Well, when I came out to leave for school this morning he was waiting to pick me up.”

Blue’s jaw drops. “Adam fucking Parrish.”

“I told him he couldn’t do it every day.” This was true. Adam really wasn’t expecting to see Ronan Lynch at 7:00 in his parking lot, not with his wet hair and bike helmet in hand. He couldn’t be mad after Ronan told him that he wanted to see him as soon as he could.

“Of course you did.” Blue sat back down, her court room questioning style over and kicked her feet up on the table, looking around the room. She found sudden interest in folding her schedule into an accordion. “Well. If we’re on the topic of confessing things… I’m…” The rest came out a mumbled sentence as she barely opened her mouth to say it.

"What?"

Blue covered her face with both of her hands, not thinking about how red she was about to be. “I’m texting Gansey,” it still came out muffled, and Adam could not believe the words that just came out of her mouth. It really was an alternate universe.

" _What?_ " Adam demanded.

Blue threw her schedule down on the table. “Don’t make me say it again.”

It was Adam’s turn to start questioning. “The person you hate. The person you’ve been avoiding for months of him trying to get you to talk to him. That Gansey.”

“That’s the one.”

“You motherfucker.”

Both Blue and Adam spent the rest of the shift trying to come up with excuses as to how they are now both interested in private school boys. Private school boys who are also roommates, to be exact. At the end of it, neither of them had a legitimate excuse, but they decided they were just going to have to live with the shame of it. 

__

Adam left the desk next to him open in Latin, as he had for the last few months, and thought about how there were so many parts of his life that now seemed like lies. 

He was on the tennis team.  
He made actual friends on said tennis team.  
Blue Sargent was texting Gansey.  
Last night, he made out with Ronan Lynch in his car. 

A memory from last night flashes through his mind, Ronan’s hands sliding into his hair, making it a mess. He takes a deep breath to not get carried away in the memory. Really, he was waiting for something to come down and return him to his real life, but it hadn’t happened yet. Ronan slides into the desk next to him. “You ready for the banquet tonight?”

“Banquet?” Adam repeats.

“The tennis banquet.” Ronan explained. Adam still looked confused, so he continued. “You dress up, go to Aglionby with your parents, we eat cake, give out season awards and listen to speeches.”

“That isn’t real.” Adam had never heard of this apparent ‘banquet’, but he supposed Ronan had more experience on this team than him.

“How do you not know this and you’re the manager? It’s very much real. It’s tonight at 7:30, they probably have a plaque with your name on it and everything.” Ronan said.

“My parents aren’t coming.” Adam said, hoping Ronan wouldn’t ask why. 

“Perfect, neither are mine. You can pick me up on your bike at 7:00, then?”

A reluctant smile spread across Adam’s face. “I hate you.”’

__

Adam hears a knock at the door as he throws a dress shirt over his arms. “One second!” He frantically buttons the top half of his shirt, he was expecting a text from Ronan saying he was here, not for him to come up. His fingers can’t grasp the buttons, and he lets out a frustrated groan, not wanting to leave Ronan waiting for long.

He opens the door, a rush of cold air coming in while he stands with his shirt untucked and still wet from his shower. Normally, this would be formal, if it wasn’t for the impeccably dressed Ronan Lynch in front of him. Adam blows out some air and lets his accent slip again, he knows Ronan likes it. “Why, aren’t you fancy?”

Ronan glares at him. “I hate dressing up.” He’s head to toe in black, but its fitted like it was made for him. It probably was. “Your buttons are crooked.” Ronan points to Adam’s half un-done shirt, and Adam realizes one side is longer than the other.

“Shit. Come in. I’m clearly not ready.” He moves to the side to let Ronan in, and unbuttons his shirt while looking in the mirror. Ronan walks into Adam’s apartment, which was really a room with a bathroom attached. He sits on the bed and it creaks back at him. He watches Adam’s slender hands work the buttons on his shirt, both coming together to smooth it down into his pants. Adam fluffs his hair with a towel, a simple gesture that makes Ronan’s heart flutter. Adam turns around to look at him, as if he knew what he was thinking about. “My work ran late. So, my shower ran late.” He runs a belt through his pants and Ronan briefly thinks about taking it back off before clearing his throat.

Adam pulls out a hanger with several ties draped over it and holds it to his chest. “Green, you think?” He smooths a forest green tie between his fingers.

“Yeah.” Ronan agrees. He watches intently as Adam’s fingers pull the tie into a tight knot. He smooths the front of his shirt down once again and looks in the mirror at himself before turning back to Ronan, taking a step closer to him so he’s standing at his knees. Ronan looks up at him. “Let’s just ditch.”

Adam tilts his head, pretending to consider it. “Tempting, but no. Come on.” Adam holds out both of his hands and pulls Ronan up, resulting in them standing almost chest to chest. Ronan leans in and gives Adam a light kiss. He smells fresh from the shower and tastes like mint toothpaste. The second time in the car, Adam informed him he didn’t have to ask before he kissed him, even if it did make Adam blush. He was trying that route now. It seemed to work, because Adam was moving to make the kiss more intense than how it started. His hand grips Ronan’s upper arm, but he pulls away. “Ready?”

Ronan blinks, really wanting to ditch now. He had two options: sit in uncomfortable chairs and fake laugh at jokes, or make out with Adam Parrish in his room. There wasn’t much competition. “Nope.”

Adam rolls his eyes and takes Ronan’s hand, dragging him out of his room. “Come on, slow poke.”

__ 

Ronan was right, most of the night was cheesy speeches and senior parents crying at their grown up kids. But, the Costco cake was delicious and he received a fair share of hugs. His arms wrapped out his teammates for a group picture, and he felt himself really smiling, knowing the people around him were his friends. He even got a senior superlative, “Most prepared on the team.” Ronan got, “Most likely to trash talk the other team.” He couldn’t say they were inaccurate. A skinny blonde mom asked Ronan if he and Adam wanted a picture together, and Ronan said yes before Adam could think about it. Ronan slung an arm around Adam’s shoulders, and the flash went off. One with them holding up the certificates with their name on it, and one without. 

“Want to send that to me?” Adam says, after Ronan and him decide to sneak out early. The rest of the night would just be small talk and asking college questions, which neither boy wanted to participate in.

“Nah.” Ronan said jokingly.

Adam shoulder checks Ronan, leaving him to bump into the doorway as they’re leaving. “Shut up, send it to me.” Adam slides into Ronan’s car, ignoring how comfortable this action is already. “Let’s go to your place.” Adam suggests, not wanting this to be over yet. He assumes Ronan is fine with this because he shifts his car into drive and races home.

Ronan stands outside his bedroom, back against the door with his hand on the knob. “You can’t judge my room.” Adam agrees and follows him in. 

“Visiting both houses in one day? Look at us.” Adam smirks.

Ronan flops on his bed, and Adam settles on his desk chair. “I don’t think you can say either of them are houses.” He picks up a stray rubicks cube and twists the sides. Ronan busies himself with unbuttoning his shirt, revealing another black t-shirt underneath.

“I can’t believe this is my life.”

“What?”

“You. In my room. Adam Parrish in my fucking room.” Ronan says seriously while gesturing at Adam Parrish in his room. He could add other things to this list: Adam Parrish in a tie in my room. Adam Parrish in socks in my room. Every detail was quite astonishing. 

Adam slides of the desk chair, but walks to a shelf hung on the wall instead. “I was just thinking that. Like, everything is going a bit too smoothly right now. What’s going to fuck it up, you know?” He brushes a finger across a dusty textbook that probably hadn’t been open. 

“Maybe an asteroid is going to run into Earth and kill us all.” Ronan suggests, which makes Adam smile and stop looking so mopey. “Come here,” he murmurs, and Adam sits next to him on the bed. “You know, I’m going to have to get real creative with my excuses to run into you next semester. Without practice.”

“You could join a spring sport.”

Ronan’s face twists. “Fuck no.”

Adam props his chin up with his hand. “Guess you’re out of luck then, champ. I only date athletes.”

“Uh huh.” Ronan says skeptically.

Adam scooches back slightly, the covers scrunching up underneath his legs. “Awkward. I didn’t tell you that before.”

Ronan moves closer to regain the space lost. “You’re so funny.”

Adam points to the door, but doesn’t move any further away. “I’m actually going to go.”

“I seriously hate you.” Ronan says in a way that Adam knows means he’s not telling the truth.

“Do you?” Adam questions and puts his hand on top of Ronan’s, his fingers sink into the spaces between Ronan’s fingers.

“Yes.” Ronan says without much might. Adam leans in and kisses him, almost laughing at the lack of both of their self-control. He didn’t have a problem with kissing Ronan every time they were alone, and he didn’t think Ronan minded either. He could sit here and wonder how long this would last until a rejection letter, or douche-bags, or a meteor like Ronan suggested would come and blow up the Earth. Or, he could just enjoy it. The latter sounded more fun, so that’s what he does as he lets Ronan slide his hand up his back, and yanks on Ronan’s arm to pull them both down on the bed. 

He leans back and smiles, looking at a very flushed Ronan before him. “We’ll have a lot of time over winter break, you know.” Ronan nods. “To make up for this lost time we’ve been talking about.”

“Oh, of course.” Ronan smiles, and touches Adam’s hair before leaning in to start another kiss. Yep, Adam decides, he’s just going to allow himself to enjoy this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg its done!! my first fic ever completed (and really only my second one attempted...) but i did it! as u can see im not usually a fic writer but i hope you all enjoyed. i gave them a mushy but still teasing each other ending, and adam felt recognized and accepted by the team :') thank you for all your comments along the way, they all meant so much and provided much motivation!


End file.
